Chapter title from "Scars" by Boy Epic

Kiss Prompt: A breathy demand: "Kiss me" - and what the other person does to respond

July 2018

"Everything's spinning!"

Luke hangs back, watching his Slayer spin in place in the middle of her bedroom as she clutches a near-empty bottle of tequila. "Jules, you're the one who's spinning."

She stops short, peering back at him with an unfairly cute, crinkled up face. "It's still spinning."

"Can you give me the bottle?" He holds out a hand.

She yanks it back to her chest, hugging it protectively. "But it's my friend."

"Jules."

She pouts, but tosses it to him, overly aggressive. "Spoil sport. Are all Watchers as unfun as you?"

He shoots her an exasperated look, but she's too drunk to read it. "Will you lie down please?"

With an indignant huff, she crawls across her bed, making a beeline for the row of pillows by the headboard. She plucks a stuffed pig from behind the pillows, shooting Luke an indignant glare like she thinks he's going to judge her. He holds up his hands, hoping he's the picture of innocence. Humming suspiciously at him, she flops onto her back and hugs the pig to her chest, fixing her eyes on the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

He hovers by the door, not sure if he should leave. But with her dad and stepmother out of town, there's no one else to take care of her if she needs anything. And he's worried.

"Was there a reason you were drinking so much tonight?" he asks gently, hoping it doesn't come across as judgmental. She had too many drinks at Alex's birthday party, and then had snagged the bottle of tequila on her way out, leaving him scrambling after her to drive her home. He's never seen her like that before.

"I'm a bad friend," she tells the ceiling, as if it's a complete answer.

"How's that?"

She rolls her head to the side to look at him. Something about the soft directness of her gaze and the gentle yellow light of the bedside lamp glowing in her hair makes his heart catch in his chest. Her face twists up and she pats the bed next to her.

He almost refuses but it doesn't matter how close he is to her. How many times does he have to remind himself of that when he's around her? He sits gingerly at the edge of her bed, keeping his body mostly turned away.

She slowly wiggles the pig's ears back and forth. "I'm glad Alex is happy and I'm really glad he found Willie. But sometimes being around them makes—" Her throat catches, and he realizes what she's about to say with a lick of dread in his stomach. Yanking her gaze away from him, she directs her next words at the pig. "Makes me feel lonely."

The knowledge punches him in the heart. A lot of the time, it's easy to pretend that the way they feel about each other, and the sheer impossibility of those feelings, doesn't matter. That the feelings are inevitable, that there's nothing to be done about them, that there's no point trying to deny them, that it doesn't harm either of them to be almost-but-not-quite.

Then there are times like these, when she feels lonely and he can't hold her hand.

"I'm sorry," he offers.

She slides her gaze over to him and shakes her head. "Not your fault." But her eyes sparkle with tears, and it's a vivid reminder that he should be more responsible. He should cut off… whatever this is.

Then she waggles her hand out for the tequila again, and he's reminded that she's definitely too drunk for this conversation. "I'm gonna get you some water, and I'm gonna need you to drink it."

He starts to get up so he can poof to the kitchen, but she sits bolt upright. "Wait!"

"What?"

"Don't go," she begs.

"I'll be right back. I'm just getting water."

She shakes her head, tears starting to run down her face. "I hate when you go."

Fuck. Sad drunk Julie is too honest.

"Jules—"

"Do you miss me when I'm gone?"

Her voice is small and desperate in a way he almost never hears it. In a way that hurts acutely. "You're too drunk for this conversation."

She shakes her head again, this time like she's trying to shake away the alcohol. "It's not a combertation."

Oh god. "Yeah, it's definitely not a combertation."

"I just want to know. Please, Luke?" She pouts up at him and he melts.

But only enough to offer her an "I do. Can I go get you some water now?"

"No! You need to fix the loneliness!" She starts to cry again, hugging the pig to her chest like a lifeline.

He doesn't need to breathe, so why does it matter that he feels like he can't breathe through his pain? "How do you want me to do that?"

Her eyes pull back up to his, and her voice comes out breathy but insistent. "Kiss me."

For fuck's sake. He's the sober one, and now he's going to cry.

He wants to bounce the thought away. Like it won't hurt him if he can just refuse to absorb the words. But her eyes are glistening, her lips trembling, her whole body shaking, and that urge to take care of her—to protect this superhero from the world and anything that tries to hurt her—overwhelms him.

So he wraps a finger around the pig's tail and tugs it gently from her hands. Keeping his eyes on hers, he places a kiss to the pig's snout, and then passes it back to her. She clutches the pig like it's become precious, and brushes its snout against her mouth. But only for a split second, because then she breaks down in tears and buries her head in the pig's side. On instinct, Luke reaches out for her shoulder, but his hand passes through her.

Intellectually, Luke knows he doesn't have a heart anymore. But then why is it breaking?

He poofs to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and filling it with water, he tries to take the moment away to steady himself and reel back his own tears. It doesn't really work, but at least he can pull on the mask.

When he poofs back up to her room, he stays clear of the bed, setting the glass on her nightstand. "Julie, can you please drink that?" he whispers.

Without pulling her eyes far from the pig, she fumbles around the nightstand to grab the glass. She wraps both hands around it, like a small child holding a sippy cup, and sloppily pours the water into her mouth. It's not until the glass is empty that she finally looks up at him, tears still soaked on her cheeks and eyes still glittering. But steadier at least. Breathing more normally.

If she were sober, he would say what he should say. That after this next apocalypse, whatever Caleb's planning with the magical battery, Luke's going to contact the Council and request a new Watcher for her. But she isn't, so he doesn't.

And the next morning, when she grumbles her way into the training room with sunglasses over her eyes, but a cheerful, ignorant smile on her face, he convinces himself that it can wait.

Just a little while longer.

Episodes of Buffy referenced in this chapter:
• "What's My Line? Part One" (aka the pig, Mr. Gordo)