Title: Dating for Dummies
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Teaser: A lonely bartender gets an earful when three women enter, fully intent on getting drunk, and three men are the reason.
--

Part II: Meeting Faith

Look at this face
I know the years are showing
Look at this life
I still don't know where it's going
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know

--

Settling into domesticity was something she really never expected to do. It just didn't make sense, and she really doubted that there was really anybody out there who would have said, "Faith, in five years you're going to be screwing the stuffy Watcher guy from England, wearing his bunny loafers, and reading his journals. By the way, did I mention that first you're going to torture him, kill a bunch of people, get thrown in jail and end up in L.A., where your best friend will be Cordelia Chase, who'll be in love with Angel - Buffy's ex? "

But here she was. Faith shuffled in the large armchair, peering over the top of his leather bound volume to stare at her feet, propped up on his very nice flea market antique coffee table. Wiggling her toes, she cocked her head, watching the bunny's ears flop and flop. Wesley was deceptively lean, and she had learned from first hand experience that his shoulders were actually broader than she expected. Consequently, his robe, which was all she was really wearing at the moment, was a little too big, and the sleeves had to be rolled up.

It was downright domestic, and it kinda freaked her out. She wasn't supposed to have this, not really. This was almost normal. As normal as things could get, and it was... okay, it was weird. Granted, she should have realized this before, but she had been a little too busy involved in the outside melodrama to really think about her situation. There was shit with Holtz, shit with Connor, shit with Lorne - outside forces, and the whole 'Cordelia becoming a demon' thing only added to that. Not really a lot of time to take a moment and consider just how comfy she was getting in stuffy Watcher guy's apartment.

She really should have panicked. She would have, on any other day, but even now, this 'relationship' was drawing her further in, and she almost hated Wesley for it.

He was in a funk, he was being an asshole, and it was worrying her half to death.

She wondered when exactly she started 'knowing' him. 'Knowing' him, not in the Biblical sense, because that started right away, but knowing him, as in, knowing that he got up at four in the morning every day to use the bathroom. She had discovered that one morning when she woke up cold, and found him there, reading one of his big fat books while sitting on it. She had cocked an eyebrow, told him to wipe the seat, and gone back to bed. In two minutes, he was right back with her, spooning around her, a smooth pool of warmth flooding her back. He had kissed her shoulder then, a soft caress, and brushed the hair from her cheeks. She had asked him if he was planning on leaving the window open the next time he stopped up the toilet.

It was little shit like that. She knew how he liked his tea - granted, she still couldn't make it. He had blanched, the look on his face almost priceless, the moment the cup came crashing down, and it had sploshed all over her fingers, scalding her. There had been a few minutes of squabbling, until she had gulped it herself, and spewed it all over him. It had been a really uncomfortable moment until he had burst into laughter, trying so hard to stifle the chuckles, and she had been ready to club him, but had ended splashing the rest of it all over him instead.

She had cleaned it up later, even licked most of it off - punishment for making some of the worst tea, forget it, THE worst tea ever made.

She knew him, or at least thought she did. And this, it wasn't him. Not the unshaven face, not the dark look in his eyes, not the way he had been giving Angel a run for his money in broody.

She wondered if he thought she wouldn't notice, if he could stay buried in his books and prophecies and not realize that she was watching his every move, thinking, noticing, trying to understand. Something was wrong, really, really wrong.

And she was his girlfriend, right? Shouldn't she do... some shit and like... try to talk to him about it? Do like Cordelia did with Angel and hound him until he was so pissed off...

Faith fingered the leather volume slowly. Wesley was an idiot if he didn't forget who he was sleeping with, even with the bunny slippers and the too big robe. Her fingers trailed every bump of the worn leather, fingered the sides of the paper, and contemplated opening it, trying to understand.

Because, Christ, something was wrong, no one had noticed but her, and she had no idea WHAT it WAS, or why Wes wouldn't tell her.

Maybe she had this all wrong. Maybe there was nothing domestic about it. Maybe, when he kissed her, when he held her and fell asleep in front of the TV with her, he had other shit on his mind. Maybe she was the farthest thing from it.

Maybe this wasn't a relationship at all.

Fuck. She hated this.

Sensitive hearing that only a Slayer possessed aided her when she heard movement from the bathroom. Subtly, she placed the book under her robe, picking idly at the lint as he came in. Wesley, dressed only in a pair of black pants, strands of hair wet and glistening on his forehead, was distracted, mopping at his hair with a towel, his nose buried in a book. And it wasn't just any book. It was THE book.

The same damned book he had been staring at for days now. The book he wouldn't let her see.

"Sounds like some great reading you've got there," she said, breaking the silence. Seated on the couch, Wesley only shot her a grim smile, before turning back to the book, eyebrow furrowing.

Faith's fingers tangled nervously with each other. She was hot and sweaty, and she wasn't sure why, but her heart beat erratically and the overwhelming concern was overriding the anger at Wesley completely dismissing her.

She thought they had got past all this insecurity bull shit, but it never really went away - not for her. Her eyes closed, wondering why on earth Wes was just fine with riding her in the bathroom, burying himself in her and breathing her scent in, as his fingers slid over her shoulders, her back, moaning into her hair, and then forgetting she was in the room five minutes later.

"Hey."

"Hmm." He barely looked up.

"You okay?" God, it came out so stupid. Nervous and weird, and... jumbled. But she waited expectantly, feeling absurdly like a little girl as she wiggled her bunny feet and pushed her sleeves up to her elbows, only to have them fall down again. Wesley's blue eyes always made her catch her breath, and they were dark midnight now, staring up at her as if her being here was a surprise.

Once again she got the fake smile, just for a second, before he ducked his head back into his book.

Oh-kay. "Fuck ,Wes, you could at least answer."

"Faith." He didn't even hear her last statement. His voice was full of distraction, when he asked, "Has Cordelia mentioned anything to you about Angel?" She must have really made that blank stare real, because he continued with, "How intimate they've gotten?"

The scowl on his face only added to her bewildered confliction, and she shuffled in the chair, pulling her legs up as she muttered, "I don't really talk about Cordelia's sex life with her - personal boundaries, and shit-"

"Faith."

"Wesley, why the fuck-"

"Faith."

She gave him a murderous glare, but he stared, as if her answer was of the utmost importance, and she gave in, almost hating herself as she grudgingly admitted, "They're close. To doing it."

The look on his face was stricken, and her heart stopped with the realization. Fingers stopped messing with her wet hair. "Fuck, Wes. Is that what this shit is about? You're worried about Angel and Cordy getting it on?"

He turned away, slamming his books together, and gathering them up.

"It's none of our business, Wes."

"It's every bit a part of my business, Faith."

'My'. Not 'Our'. 'My'. Fuck you, Wesley. "Since when?" she snapped, sitting up, letting her arms fall to the side. "Cordy knows what she's doing, Wes. She's more scared of Angelus than anyone - she's not going to let him out-"

"Love has a habit of blinding-"

"It didn't blind YOU."

"We were different. I didn't turn EVIL the moment we had sex."

"Yeah, you did, Wesley." He froze, and for a moment, just a moment, she felt the moment of bitterness and agony that had flared up the moment he had fucked her, no, not fucked, made love, made love to her and tried to take it back.

Maybe he felt it too, because he regarded her with this look, the broody Wesley look. "Faith," he began, his voice softer now. "Logic is not the same as losing a soul."

Could have fucking fooled her.

Taking a breath, Faith clenched at the sofa, looked away for a moment, and then turning back to find her boyfriend, with his blue eyes moist and sad.

Fuck.

"Why are you so obsessed with their sex life?" she finally asked. "I mean, when they figured that shit out, you didn't care about it. You were happy for them. Happy for Connor, you said he needed a mot-"

"I know what I said, Faith-" He was retreating now, moving toward the bedroom.

She stood, heedless of anything now. "Something's changed, Wes. Something's changed and you're not telling me what it is. You're not telling anyone." His back was so straight as he listened to her, the back of his head was all he allowed her to see, and God - why wasn't he fucking letting her in? WHY? "You going to tell me what the hell it is, Wes? You think I don't know you by now? Tell me." The last two words were almost a plea, almost a threat, wedged somewhere in between.

He paused, turned, and maybe she was getting through. MAYBE, there was something in him and she got to it - maybe they were more than fuck buddies after all, because his eyes were soft now, and his hands, they unclenched...

And went right back to fists when his eyes gaze roved downward.

"What the bloody..." Her eyes shot down, and she realized she had just REALLY fucked up. "My journal," he breathed, coming forward, kneeling down to pick it up. "You read my journal?"

"Not... yet..." the look in his face was ice cold, and she almost shrank from it, from the hurt and anger, before she realized - hey, she was fucking Faith. "How the hell else was I going to figure it out, Wesley? You weren't going to tell me? I was worried, okay? About YOU."

"NEVER go through these," he hissed, stepping away from her. "You've no right to go through my personal books."

"Why the hell, don't I?" she asked. "Why shouldn't I? If I can't-"

"You've no idea, Faith. NO IDEA-"

"Then tell me," she whispered, eyes stinging now, and it was embarrassing, the way she was almost begging, but she didn't care, not now. "TELL me, Wes."

But his eyes were hard, and with that stubble, with that look, it wasn't Wesley.

She closed her eyes, felt her hands curl up into fists, and SHIT - she wanted to hit him, because only HE made her this small, this vulnerable - he was her fucking world, and it was some twisted shit that made that happen.

Without another word, she stripped off her robe - his robe - and flung it at him, pushing past him and moving into his bedroom, grabbing the leather pants he had peeled off slowly, so slowly, and yanking on her shirt.

Fucking déjà vu.

"Faith-"

"No. You don't want to share? Fine. We're not sharing. There's no domesticity, there's no fucking bunny loafers or big robes, and no journals. I don't got those rights, if you can't TRUST me, then all I am is a fuck buddy- and I'm fucking tired of being that, Wes."

"Faith, you're being-"

"Yeah, your bet your ass I'm 'being', Wes. I'm 'being' out of this place." She slammed the door to his apartment, stuck her keys - his keys - into her pocket, and wiped the tears from her eyes, as she loaded on her bike - his bike - and revved the engine.

He liked his books and brooding so damned much, let him stay there with them.

She slammed the throttle, and sped away, before she got so angry and worried she went in for round two.

--

Rick shuffled in his chair, crossing his fingers as he gazed wide-eyed at the chick in leather, who suddenly didn't look half as scary or intimidating.

Well, then she did, because she muttered another obscenity and slammed her hand on the table, putting a crack right through it.

Dan jumped, and gave a squeak, and Big Hair Debbie gave a smile of awe, while stupid glare-y guy in leather just gave this weird ass growl, but Cordelia and Fred never even blinked.

"God - Wesley was really..."

"Yeah." Faith swallowed hard, took another look at her vodka, and chugged it down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Some shit's really got into him."

"Must be going around." The tone was somber, and it came from Cordelia. The woman's hazel eyes shone with dark thought, and they locked eyes, shared some conversation that obviously, Rick wasn't included in.

"You're going out with a nerd?"

Faith didn't answer Dan, but she did flip him off. Twice.

"Now sweetie, I'm confused." Big Hair Debbie, once again oblivious to everything else, gave a twitch of her index finger. "You said you were worried that 'Angel'-" Another growl from guy in leather.

"That's a fruity name," Dan offered.

"First name's Geraldo," Fred offered.

"-would turn evil?" Debbie finished, ignoring them all.

Faith stiffened, shared a glance with Cordelia, and once again, nobody but maybe Fred were invited to contemplate.

"You know, the way men go... evil sometimes." Fred said, stammering in a cute way that almost made Rick smile, if he wasn't so damned confused. "Cause, you know, after you really sleep with a guy, they tend to lose - you know, buying the cow-"

"Fred, shut up," Faith said.

"I better call and check up on Connor," Cordelia muttered, pulling out her cellphone.

Debbie was still lost. "So you're not sleeping with him?"

"Does it REALLY matter?"

"Who's Connor?"

"Angel's son," Fred said, wincing when Cordelia smacked her lightly.

"Can you give a LITTLE more detail, Fred?" Cordelia asked, rolling her eyes. "Geez. Why don't you tell them about Holtz while you're at it?"

"Sorry."

"Oh, give her a fucking break, Cordelia. She's pregnant-"

"Sorry, Fred." To her credit, Cordelia looked genuinely apologetic. "I just... I'm worried about Connor and Angel and... crap, I shouldn't even be here. Maybe we should just take care of the vis-"

"I'm not SURE if I'm pregnant, Faith-"

"So, you're really not having sex with Angel?" Everyone turned to stare at Debbie. She shrugged. "I'm sorry! It's rare!" she leaned forward. "You waitin', hon?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes, and kept the phone to her ear. "Can someone take away the shot glass from Bar Maid Sally over there? The alcohol is seeping into her brain cells."

"So, no sex, but you're taking care of his kid," Dan said, crossing his arms and he inspected her phone. "Nice model." Cordelia snatched the phone back. Dan blinked, but recovered. "Sounds like the guy's got you on a short leash."

"Oh, fuck you." That was from Faith. "What kinda shit-"

"Cordelia, why DID you leave Kate with the baby?" Fred was worried, and perhaps it was that that made Cordelia pull the phone from her ear.

Cordelia swallowed, and her eyes looked soft and haggard as she again stared at Faith.

"Because, Fred. I couldn't trust Angel alone with him."

Rick's jaw dropped.

Oooh.

--

end part two