Chapter Text
February 16, 2003
Faith presses the paw button on a greaser-themed teddy bear in the Valentine’s Day Clearance aisle. The bear’s 8-bit version of Summer Lovin’ grabs the attention of some hungover guy with a stained shirt at the flowers shelf, who seems to wanna scrap about it, as if his hairline can afford the stress. Faith smiles back and activates nine additional bears.
Her public disservice is interrupted by Buffy hauling over enough chocolate to appease a child emperor. “Hey menace,” Buffy says, muffled behind the tower of heart-shaped boxes stacked higher than her head. “Wanna use your hands to do Good?”
Seeing Mr. Midlife glare at Buffy and her cargo actually makes the break-dancing devil on Faith’s shoulder wanna do Not Good, so she reaches back to the shelf and restarts the bears. He sneers and leaves with a bouquet that won’t win his wife back.
“You know what, this is on me,” Buffy says, still balancing the chocolate. “Should’ve pulled rank when you were shotgunning Unmarked Potion number 3.”
“They're just to help with jet-lag. Got them from the warlock duty-free store.” Faith helps Buffy load the chocolate into their shopping cart, which is about how long it takes her brain to fully load what the fuck Buffy just said. “Hang on—the Hell do you mean pull rank, Twinkie?”
Buffy bends over the cart, sorting the boxes into shorter stacks. Her little half-smile is almost as distracting as the shirt she’s wearing. One of those off-the-shoulders ones that Buffy’s so into these days. “Just pre-gaming a lil smack-talk for when I smoke you at volleyball. How am I doing?”
“Not bad, cheerleader.” Faith pillows her arms on the cart handle, leaning forward so the Irish marble pendant of her new amulet swings away from the neckline of her tank top. She smirks when Buffy insta-parks her gaze there. “Anything else you wanna pre-game with me?” Faith clasps the pendant, circling her thumb over the dragon scale inlaid in the marble, and Buffy steps closer, watching the movement.
“Depends.” Buffy reaches out, resting a hand over Faith’s heart. She suddenly pulses two fingers on the spot where the last of Faith’s concealer went this morning, smiling when Faith’s breath gets all hitchy about it. “Can you handle it, or are you too sensitive right now?”
“So what am I handling, B?” Faith says 40 seconds later, straddling Buffy’s lap where she’s sitting in the backseat of Faith’s Camaro. The engine’s hum tickles her knees and shins where they press against the sun-warmed leather. “This?” Faith lifts herself off Buffy’s thighs a little so she can tease the edge of Buffy’s skirt.
“In the grocery store parking lot? Absolutely not, thanks for asking.”
Faith laughs and moves her hands to Buffy’s face instead. “Your call, Precious. But if you’re worried about logistics, we only have to swap spots.” She kisses her cheek. “Got everything tinted and soundproofed for you.”
“I'm more worried about consequences,” Buffy says, pinching the little cleft in Faith’s bottom lip. “For instance, if we do that, who's gonna look unhandled enough to go back in there for the chocolate before we leave? My money’s on not me and certainly not you." She pokes one of Faith's dimples. "Pre-game only, please.”
Faith grins, reaching behind herself to blast the AC. “You got it. I’ll keep it hot but unbothered.” She leans in and kisses her slow and deep, hands threading in her half-up hair.
Buffy melts into it, running soft hands up and down Faith's arms, her clothed back, her denim shorts.
The way Faith’s cool dissolves like cotton candy in hot water the second Buffy touches the backs of her thighs could be called “humbling,” if Faith believed in that sort of thing.
After several increasingly-bothered sounds escape from her mouth into Buffy’s, Faith breaks away panting, gently nudging Buffy’s hands off her skin. "Sorry, one sec." She reaches back for the AC knob, then groans when it's already on full blast.
Buffy gasps, eyes sparkling. “You are too sensitive right now!” She cups Faith’s heated face.
Younger Faith would’ve cartwheeled to the Dark Side after such a remark. The Faith of Today, even when cool-less, understands this is just Buffy’s twice-shy way of asking for reassurance. “Honestly yeah,” she chuckles, leaning her cheek into Buffy’s hand. “That’s my default setting with you.” And the blushing smile she gets for it is so worth a little flick on her ego.
“Me too.” Buffy sighs, pulling her into a hug. “I missed you so much. I still miss you and you’re literally right here. What spell is this?”
Faith swallows a sudden lump in her throat at the sincerity in Buffy's voice. “Missed you more.” She nibbles at Buffy’s earlobe, lightly tracing a ring with her tongue. “Did I say that enough last night?”
“Yeah. But I’m not done hearing it.” Buffy presses her nose into Faith’s neck and breathes deep, squeezing tight around her waist. “Can I tag along next time you go RuneScaping around The Emerald Isle?”
“I’d love that.” Faith holds her close, one hand drawing lazy patterns on the back of Buffy’s neck, and rests her cheek on Buffy's head. She breathes in her sweet shampoo and the fancy new perfume Buffy got while Faith was in Ireland. “We’d have a blast,” Faith says. “Plus the scenery will bring out your eyes even more.” She yawns. “So gorgeous.”
“Does someone need a nap before volleyball?”
Faith shakes her head, eyes drifting shut. “Got one more of those potions in my pocket.” She immediately feels Buffy’s hands on the back of her shorts and snickers. “When is anything besides your hands in those pockets?”
“Doesn’t hurt to check.” Buffy pushes Faith’s shoulders back and runs a palm down to Faith's stomach. "Just 'cause something hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it can't."
Faith sighs when Buffy's fingers dip past her bellybutton ring, skimming under her waistband. There’s no way Buffy’s gonna follow through with this little philosophy lesson in a material way, but some parts of Faith learn slower than others, so her thighs start trembling anyway.
Which is when Buffy’s fingertips take a detour and slide into Faith’s right front pocket, digging for the potion.
“Remember this after patrol, B,” Faith says when Buffy giggles at her squirming. “When you’re all hungry and I’m playing RuneScape.”
“That’s what the chocolate is for, Ms. One Track.” Buffy pops open the tiny can and presses it to Faith’s lips. But she tilts it back before Faith’s ready, and some of the light blue potion spills from the corner of Faith’s mouth, racing down her neck and chest. “Oops,” Buffy says, wincing at the growing wet spot on Faith’s tank top.
Faith shrugs. And then, because her energy’s back and she’s not above vengeance, she swiftly ditches her tank top and bra, tossing them on the floor by her duffel bag. “I got extra—”
Buffy gasps so loud that Faith scans the car’s interior for demons.
“What have I done?” Buffy yells, frantically looking over Faith’s uncovered skin.
Faith looks down. “Oh,” she says, to all the pink and red presents Buffy’s mouth left on her chest last night that typically should be gone by now. Faith turns and looks over her shoulder, checking the rear-view mirror. Her back has the same pretty marks all over. “Oo, yikes,” she says to her reflection. “Nice,” she adds, smirking. When she turns back to Buffy, her smirk disappears.
Buffy’s crying, shaky hands hovering over Faith’s skin. “Baby, I’m so, so sorry—”
“No no, hey, it’s ok—” Faith rushes to wipe Buffy’s tears away. “You didn’t—you never hurt me, B.” She quickly grabs another bra and shirt from her duffel bag on the floor and puts them on. “Look at me.”
With a little hiccuping breath, Buffy does, and there’s a glacial break in Faith’s heart that she’d love to patch with the broken bones of all the people who’ve ever made Buffy look like this, even if that list includes Faith.
“I had a ritual done last night,” Faith says, caressing Buffy’s neck and shoulders. “Totally mild, but it slows down my Slayer healing for like 12-ish hours. It’s also why I’m wicked tired.”
“Oh…” Buffy frowns. “That’s…well, I hate that explanation less. Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”
Faith covers her face in a million kisses. “Cross my heart. The most you did was make me have to use concealer on the public parts.” She smirks. "You know, if I wasn't a Slayer, this habit of yours would be pretty expensive for me."
Buffy laughs weakly and sniffles. “Then I would buy your concealer for you.” She presses a kiss on each of Faith’s hands, then interlocks them with hers. “Why all stabby-cloaks about the ritual?”
Faith playfully pins Buffy’s hands on either side of the headrest. “Because I’m tryna surprise you with something.” She kisses her red nose. “And someone’s got a habit of digging.”
“Does this have to do with your Ireland trip?”
“Hello?”
“Sorry. Shovel down.”
Faith giggles and softly kisses Buffy’s forehead, letting go of her hands. “Lemme go get your choco—” She winces as a sound like mic feedback pierces her brain.
“HEY GIRLFRIENDS,” Willow’s cheery voice intrudes.
“Will,” Buffy hisses, squeezing the sides of her head. “Ow.”
“OMG, that’s my RuneScape character,” Willow says, now featuring normal volume. “Will underscore Ow.”
“You have an addiction sweetie,” Tara’s voice says. “Anyway, Slay-team, Giles just called-”
Faith tunes out, gently rubbing Buffy’s temples with her fingertips. She watches the cute way Buffy’s face gets all serious while their magical friends spin yarn about some low-level demony vibes in the woods. Then she pushes Buffy's hair behind her bare shoulders so she can rub her neck. God. Did Faith even know what collarbones were called before she met her?
“Faith?” Tara says.
“What’s up?” Hands pausing, Faith looks up at Buffy's little half-smile. She smiles back.
“Can you vacate the premises?” Willow says. “Whatever’s on your mind is causing a lot of...SPELL INTERFERENCE.”
Faith shakes her head. Red’s not so slick at SECRET code phrases. But the sentence she crammed it into has Buffy looking all smug and adorable, so Faith will take it. She kisses Buffy’s smirk off. “That’s ‘cause you’re a noob, Will_Ow.”
“Keep my mage’s name outta your Level 3 mouth, Slayage-A-Troy.”
“It’s pronounced Twa, like the French thing.”
“That would be t-r-o-i-s.”
“Huh. Was wondering why they didn’t ban me for that username.”
“You’re banned in real life though,” Willow says. “By moi. From the premises. For SPELL INTERFERENCE.”
While Buffy stays in Faith’s car to hear the fake intel, Faith finds Tara’s car idling on the other side of the building. Tara’s in the driver seat, adjusting the short sleeves of her flowy bohemian dress. Dawn’s in the back wearing a striped romper and sunglasses, choking back laughter. Probably at whatever Willow’s saying to Gulli-Buffy through the telepathy crystal on the dash.
Faith taps on the driver’s side window. When Tara rolls it down, Faith gets a blast of cold, sunscreen-scented air. “You’re all looking SoCal-cute today,” Faith whispers with a smile, giving Tara and Dawn a fist-bump. She winks at Willow in the passenger seat.
Willow mimes hi and grins, waving back excitedly. Her hand accidentally bumps the giant brim of her sunhat. “Yup yup,” she speaks into the telepathy crystal. “And the gargoyles disguise themselves as regular ole’ rocks until sunset, so you two got some time to beach around with us.”
Tara waves a hand. A purple see-through bubble appears around Willow and the crystal. “Now Buffy can only hear Willow,” Tara says. "Good to h-have you back from across the pond."
Leaning out the backseat window, Dawn pushes her shades up onto her head and raises her eyebrows at Faith. “Jeez, you look like you died in a pond.” She hops out of the car and gives her a hug.
“Guess you don’t want your souvenir?” Faith says.
“You misheard me. I said: soul-binding sickness looks great on you, Chosen One.”
Faith ruffles Dawn's hair. "You are your sister's sister."
"I'd say stakes can be both ranged and melee," Willow says into the crystal. "But I don't think the game has them."
"This is how it starts." Tara smiles, shaking her head. "Anyway, here you go." She passes Faith a green velvet jewelry pouch with the Magic Box logo on the front. "Everything w-went to spec with the ritual. You should have your stamina back soon."
“Thanks, yo.” Faith carefully stows Buffy's surprise in her pocket, taking a few steps back from the car. "Also..." She tucks her hair behind her ear, staring at her shoes. “I know it was just 13 days or whatever, but. Missed you guys.” Faith looks up at all three of them. She relaxes at Tara’s lopsided grin, Willow's sweet smile, and Dawn's extra hug.
“Prophecy Girl 81?” Willow says into the crystal. “Well...that’s a decent username choice, I guess. Kinda makes me wanna cast Curse on you, but that could just be the chaos runes talking. O-oh, you’re gonna go look for Faith in the store now?” Willow makes a hurry-up gesture at Faith, eyes wide.
“See ya soon,” Dawn says, lightly punching Faith’s shoulder. “Seriously, we missed you. And I missed Buffy not singing Coldplay.”
Tara nods sagely. “Yellow, everywhere. Nothing but Yellow.”