Title: Anuta is not Christmas Island...
Author: lilyme
Summary: See what happens when an alleged Grinch and a Christmas fanatic are snowed in together
Pairing: A slayer and a Witch - yet again;)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". They were created by Joss Whedon and belong to him, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB Network. No copyright infringement intended!
Dedication: To the Buffyverse-characters and the people behind them (actors and writers)
Anuta is not Christmas Island
Part Two of Three
Punch.
Christmas punch.
Willow wondered how they could have forgotten about that in the first place, as Faith headed off to scout for some usable alcohol. Okay, she knew that she had forgotten on purpose, since alcohol and her body rarely got along. But Faith seemed suddenly obsessed by this thought and didn't let Willow knock her off her course. So the redhead had agreed to the alcoholic beverage, for mood's sake. After all she didn't need to drink all too much of the concoction Faith was preparing in the kitchen area.
At least that's what she thought...
Three hours and about fifteen small glasses of punch later, thinking clearly was slowly becoming an issue. No, it had become an issue already – that punch was something – but from time to time she was still able to form a proper thought. Faith - already a little wobbly on her legs – had gotten up to maltreat a knob on the old but trusty little TV to find a new exciting channel to watch, when Willow's voice interrupted her.
"Y-You know... meee and Xander always watch... Tscharlie Brown's Chrissstmas," came the shickered statement, "with Tscharlie Brown. A-And Snooopy... and Chrissss...mas," she smiled contently. "Every year".
Faith had too much trouble concentrating on the little knob to throw Willow a raised-eyebrow-look. "Aren't you a little old for that?" It was hard to say why her voice wasn't as affected by the alcohol. Maybe her body was just a little more used to it.
Willow didn't say anything to that, only pouted a little.
"Oh... idea...," Faith suddenly squealed excitedly. She looked at the wall clock; a little after nine pm. Quickly she clicked her way through the channels until she reached the areas where she suspected some very special programs to be located. And she wasn't disappointed. A few twists and turns of the knob later she found what she was looking for. How would Willow feel about … age-appropriate TV? "Oh, look... another Christmas movie," she simply said and came stumbling back towards the sofa.
Willow's first impulse was to ask the brunette how she knew that this was a Christmas movie. Since all she could see was... a butt... in close-up. A female, very scantily clad butt at that. And then the camera zoomed out on the entire body... which in all its glory was covered by nothing more than a skimpy, dark brown slip and a pair of antlers.
Faith couldn't possibly be serious. Given normal circumstances, she wouldn't show her a movie like that... But Faith hadn't actually had that much punch, so who knows. To say Willow was confused, would be an understatement. The movie clearly belonged into that category that started with 'p' and ended on 'orn'. Where else would someone get the idea to present their behind to the camera quite so insistently...?
"Saw that one a few years ago, when I wanted to watch one without Christmas in it," Faith explained, clumsily fighting her way back under the blanket. Her articulation was still working fine, only her motor functions had already suffered a little. "Then I read last week that it's on today. Great movie".
"F-Faith... I don't know... if that's...," Willow wanted to protest, her voice a little more sober now from shock.
"Just watch it, okay," Faith interrupted and with this the discussion seemed over for her. Willow sighed and stopped arguing. She figured that – if she still had enough control of her body – she could simply squint her eyes shut, if things on screen got all too... extreme.
It got extreme... but not as quickly as expected. The reindeer – or whatever the girl in the skimpy 'outfit' was supposed to be – was inspecting a Christmas roast in the oven, which upon closer inspection turned out to be completely ruined.
Remaining in her stooped position, the reindeer-lady at first didn't notice another person sneaking up on her. Only when the hands of said person – suuuurely by accident – grazed her butt, she turned to face a blonde in a sexy Santa outfit.
"A lesbo po...," Willow spurted out, swallowing the last part of that word for unknown reasons. Maybe it was because of the word itself, maybe it had to do with the fact that they were watching one those movies.
"A lesbo po...," Faith repeated, slightly cocking head. "Well, two actually. Look," her finger pointed vaguely at the lower left corner of the screen.
One could certainly interpret the incomplete word that way. Because Faith pointed her finger at another scantily clad human posterior.
"Uh-hm," Willow just nodded. Had she been able to think more clearly, she probably would have wondered about Faith picking a 'po...' with two girls. Because the girls on screen would certainly soon lose the remaining bits of their 'clothes' and... they hardly could keep their hands off each other.
But since her brain was in a pretty little daze, she simply sat and watched, as Faith had commanded.
And the excitement was growing. After Santa had done her best to comfort the little reindeer – an undertaking that had taken place surprisingly G-rated - the next... act... of the movie followed. What would Christmas be without the exchange of gift?
Accompanied by a kinky and kitschy dialogue, some interesting items were conjured up from various brightly wrapped boxes. Handcuffs... other things that are better left unspecified... and a, um... picture book with stimula...uh, suggestions in case boredom in the bedroom set in. Apparently Santa and the reindeer sometimes had some issues in that field.
"... There's even a plot...," Willow stated surprised.
"Hey, those movies all have a … a plot," Faith retorted, the alcohol finally getting to her somewhat. "The plumber with his pipe and stuff...," she opined and bent forward to take another sip of her delicious punch, which consisted almost entirely of Giles' Scottish Whiskey. She offered another glass to Willow, and this one accepted after thinking briefly.
Willow straightened herself up, sat up properly, since apparently she had an important announcement to make. "Well... maybe I'm toooooo drrrunk already, but... I like it," she grinned and fell back onto the cushy cushions. She had made her point; now she didn't have to make an effort anymore remaining her composure.
By now the girls on screen were even less dressed than at the beginning of the movie. And the actions had become more X-Rated.
"Told ya," Faith noted. Her head remained in its crooked position; it had simply gotten too heavy by now.
Willow's head, until now being held pretty much upright, now followed Faith's … which, however, was probably due to a very interesting scene they were watching right now. "Never ttthhhought you could use a fir branch for...well..."
"Ever thought they made those out of rubber?" Faith ask a not unwarranted question and they both broke out in ringing laughter.
When they had calmed down again, something suddenly came to Willow's mind. "You know, this one time at band camp..." That's where her sentence ended. Faith looked at her as interested as it was possible for her in her inebriated state, but the redhead simply didn't go on. Maybe she had forgotten what she had wanted to say. Or maybe she didn't want to let Faith in on the thought bumping around in her head.
The shrug of Faith's shoulders was barely noticeable as she cocked her her head again. It just was more comfy that way.
"Red... can you take my head off your shoulder...?" Faith asked about twenty minutes later, more than sleepy. It wasn't her fault that this stupid thing atop her neck now showed even more imbalance than intended. And she didn't seem to have enough strength to pull it up again.
Red, equally as tired, didn't fully understand Faith's question at first. Though that the tipsy brunette had confused the personal pronouns. Quickly she checked the position of her own head. Hm... not remotely resting on anything. Weird...
But then she noticed that there really was something there. There... on her own shoulder. It wasn't her own head, that much was certain. Because that would mean her head had been severed from her body somehow and had been reattached somewhere next to her neck.
Okay, so that had to mean Faith's head was on her shoulder. She didn't have any problem with that – as far as she was concerned, Faith could put her head wherever she wanted. But apparently Faith didn't want that. So...
Willow scooted a bit to the right, expecting Faith to reflexively remove her head now that there wasn't anything there to rest it on. But the alcohol finally had overruled the reflexes of the brunette slayer...
Similar things could be said about her own sense of balance, as Willow had to admit, when the 'scooting-over-a-little' became a 'suddenly-finding-herself-flat-on-her-back'.
Faith's affected reflexes now resulted in her body following the redhead's unasked. Of course Faith didn't land on her back or her side... no – where would be the fun in that? Instead Faith landed – face first – on Willow's chest.
By now the slayer certainly would have to sit up with a start, since she didn't seem to want any body contact, Willow thought considering their current... position... pretty startled herself.
But Faith did nothing of the sort. Instead she cuddled up to Willow and everything located on that very specific region of the redhead's body, making herself comfortable. "That's better," she murmured, when she finally found the coziest spot for her head.
And really – it was better. Way better than this stupid shoulder. So much softer and comfier. So very perfect for...
She didn't finish that thought. Well... her head didn't. Her body, however, instinctively knew, which command the control center up there had wanted to send and reacted on its own.
Willow could only slowly shake off the shock. Why did Faith have to put her head there of all places? And her hands were a little too clingy as well. Okay, they were grasping some less dangerous places of her body, but still...
"Faith...," she tried, but knew that the slayer didn't hear her anymore.
Because...
Faith was already snoozing peacefully. Even though snoozing peacefully wasn't really the right expression for what the slayer was doing.
Faith was snoring. Massively. She was louder than Xander and – may God rest her soul – Anya combined.
Willow only hoped that Faith's vociferous, cacophonous, slightly wheezing snore was due the excessive punch consumption. Because if not...she felt sorry for each and every single person, who was exposed to this noise on a regular basis.
Meaning slayers who had the 'pleasure' of residing in rooms in direct vicinity to Faith's. There wasn't anyone else – Faith was still the prototypical single with the occasional one-night-stands.
Maybe because of that her current sleeping position wouldn't even bother her any further – there wasn't anyone in her life, who would be upset about that. Willow on the other hand... couldn't help thinking about Kennedy, her girlfriend, whom she now has been with for longer than anyone had ever expected. For almost seven years. She didn't even want to know how the girl would feel about this. She only hoped her own dark slayer would never hear about it.
But if... she would put the blame on Faith. It obviously was the truth. She had fabricated this... punch.
The shock that had temporarily cleared the drunken stupor in her own mind slowly ebbed away. How else could it be explained that she suddenly found Faith calming in a way?
Faith... Her face towards the TV, as though she wanted to know so badly how the movie would end. Her nose redder than Rudolph's. Her hands clinging to Willow. And her snore... that in its enormous volume and cacophony was still strangely narcotic.
Willow couldn't escape this effect any longer. As much as she wanted to.
Finally her eyes decided that they had seen enough. With one last glance at the still very very busy girls and with both ears listening to Faith's snoring, she finally closed her eyes.
When she awoke again, a strange feeling overcame her. As though her brain was wrapped in cotton wool. There was not a trace of headaches... Shouldn't she have those? Okay, it seemed it was the middle of the night, so maybe the hangover was still coming.
It was a few seconds later that she noticed what had awoken her. There was another feeling. An even stranger one. Someone was feeling her up. Groping her!
Faith!
Faith, who apparently wasn't yet as sober as she was. The slayer was sitting atop her and was impatiently tugging at her clothes. "There yewwa..." Through the thick material of her woolen sweater, she sensed the brunette's warm hands on her tummy. Faith herself was dressed as if it was midsummer outside. She was wearing one of her wife beaters and short biker pants. Basically her underwear. For a second Willow wondered where she had left the rest of her clothes, since she didn't see them anywhere.
"What are you doing?" Willow asked blankly, when the hands suddenly slid under her sweater.
"That movie... I wanna," came a curt reply, Faith being much too busy following through with her plan.
Willow didn't understand Faith's comment. Faith wanted to be part of such a movie? No... those hands... uh-oh... Faith wanted... this! The hands were already dangerously close to the area the brunette's head had rested on in her sleep. No... this wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.
"Faith, n-no... y-you're drunk," Willow stammered, taken aback. This couldn't be true...
"Mmmm...punch..." Temporarily distracted by Willow's words, Faith reached for a glass that still held a last bit of the yummy beverage. Panicking, Willow didn't see any any other way than to think of a short incantation. It was intended to clear Faith's head, to make the slayer leave her alone.
What it really did...
Faith regarded the glass containing her precious punch in astonishment. The formerly amber liquid was now crystal clear.
Willow frowned. Water? Had she really just turned the punch into water...?
Faith seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Heh... Anti...Jesus... Antichrist!" she laughed and knocked back the supposed water. Only to notice, "Hm. Still punch... too bad," she grinned mischievously, putting down the glass and focusing on her actual task.
First... getting Willow out of her clothes. Because the girl had on way too much for her liking.
Willow didn't quite comprehend the actions of her own body. Or rather the non-actions. Shouldn't it put up resistance of some kind? It had done this moments ago!
But Faith... was overwhelming – in more than one way-, and Willow resigned to her fate, not entirely unwilling.
Within seconds the nimble slayer hands freed her of her pants and revealed white Bridget-Jones-y panties and thick, gray woolen socks. Willow couldn't remember owning clothes like these. The socks – okay, somewhere in her closet there was probably a pair like this hidden; after all she had cold feet frequently. But that underwear...
"Hm... sexy...," Faith smirked. If she was being serious, Willow couldn't say. But she didn't feel comfortable. Faith shouldn't see her like this. And more importantly shouldn't do the things with her she was obviously planning on doing.
Faith was drunk; she couldn't know what was happening here. Willow had to make sure that things didn't go any further. But her body stayed in its anxiously relaxed rigor, simply let Faith do.
And thus she didn't stop the lips that were moving towards hers. But her mind was still able to give her eyes the order to close. Maybe she could block out the slayer's actions that way.
Simply pretend it wasn't happening.
to be continued tomorrow ;)