#and as a way to remember/grieve everything he’s lost. friends. anya. Sunnydale as a whole. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jennycalendar · 6 years

Text

inevitability

read it on ao3!

Faith thinks that all that keeps Buffy in this room with her is the memory of those almost-kisses. The possibility that once, there was almost something beautiful between them.

written for the 2017 buffyverse femslash secret santa for @faithlesbihane!! merry (belated; yikes) christmas, clementine and i hope you enjoy this <3

the prompt i chose: buffy/faith + post chosen angst with a happy ending

It’s an accident, that first time they share a bed.

Well, it is and it isn’t. Here’s what happens: there are six bedrooms available in the cheap motel they finally stop at. The Potentials (not Potentials anymore, Faith realizes, but she can’t stop herself from thinking of them as such) get the first bedroom, Willow and Kennedy get the second, Xander gets the third (they all kind of feel like he deserves some privacy, after Anya), Robin, still recuperating from his injuries, gets the fourth to himself, Giles is sulking because now he has to share a room with Andrew, and that leaves Faith, Dawn and Buffy standing awkwardly in the hotel lobby.

Faith is opening her mouth, ready to say she’ll bunk with the Potentials, because she’s not sure she can handle the awkwardness that comes with sharing a room with Buffy. But then Dawn says quietly to Buffy, “You know what, I think I’m going to bunk with the Potentials. Is that okay?”

Buffy looks a mixture of surprised and panicked. “Um—”

“It’s just, you know,” Dawn hesitates, then says, “I’m feeling—jumpy. Kind of. I want to be in a room with a bunch of people I don’t know and not think about the whole town being a giant smoldering crater on the face of the earth.”

“Oh,” says Buffy. “Okay.” She doesn’t look happy with this, but she doesn’t look hurt, either, so Faith figures Buffy kind of gets it. Hell, Faith gets it. There’s something really comforting about getting lost in the shuffle, even if the shuffle is just seven girls instead of what was beginning to feel like seventy.

Dawn hugs Buffy, then goes over to comfort Giles about his new roommate, leaving Faith and Buffy sort of standing there. It actually takes Faith a moment to do the mental arithmetic and realize that this means she and Buffy will be sharing a hotel room.

Kinda imagined our first time in bed together would be under different circumstances, B, she thinks, and almost says it; it’s an excellent thing to say, laden with innuendo that might, under other circumstances, have made high school Buffy blush and this Buffy roll her eyes. But the Buffy standing in front of her looks too tired and worn to poke fun at, so Faith bites her tongue and says instead, “Sorry about this.”

“What?” Buffy looks up, eyes unfocused. “It’s—it’s fine. I think I just need to get some sleep.” Without waiting for a response, she hurries over to Giles, snagging one of the room keys while he and Dawn talk. The conversation sort of looks like it’s become a more painful one; both of them look tired too, and Buffy’s mouth twists as she turns away. “We’re room 217,” she tells Faith, who follows her without a word.

Room 217 is small, and because this isn’t really all that great a place, it’s only got one bed. Faith waits for Buffy to make some kind of awkward objection or offer to sleep on the floor (or maybe ask that Faith sleep on the floor, who knows), but instead, Buffy shuts the door behind her and says, “Look, I just—I don’t care, okay, if you care, that’s fine, but I, I can’t right now,” and kicks off her shoes, sort of throwing herself onto the bed. She doesn’t look at Faith.

It’s a bit disconcerting. The Buffy by the crater had smiled, albeit briefly. This Buffy seems exhausted and just about done with everything around her. Faith steps out of her own shoes, shrugs off her jacket, and crosses the room to sit on the other side of the bed. “Anything good on TV?” she asks rhetorically, and starts flipping through the channels.

“I don’t know,” says Buffy heavily. Faith wasn’t really expecting an answer, but this feels like an okay sign. “Try the news.”

“Nah, that shit bums me out.” Faith flips past the news channel (Unprecedented Incident In Sunnydale, proclaims the screen in a broad line of red text under the newscaster) and finds some kids’ cartoon with creepy little animals. “Not as much as this, though. Yikes.”

She looks over at Buffy, who’s smiling. It’s not the same kind of smile as high school Buffy; Faith misses that girl. Faith thinks, sometimes, about what might have happened if she’d met Buffy before Angel, back before Angel lost his soul and started killing people and made his relationship with Buffy one of those tragic soap opera things that do better on daytime TV than they do in real life. Maybe Faith would have been Buffy’s Angel, a dramatic, lethal first love that ended up killing a bunch of people.

Wouldn’t be too far from the truth. Buffy was to Faith as Angel was to Buffy: a messed-up source of light and love.

“I used to watch I Love Lucy with my mom,” Buffy says. She’s rolled over onto her stomach, eyes on the television. “After school, sometimes. And we’d watch those cheesy black-and-white movies with Dawn and eat lots of popcorn.”

“I’m sorry about Spike,” says Faith suddenly, jerkily. She’s not sure how to get that out there, and she wants to get it out of the way.

Buffy’s hand grips the sheet in front of her. She doesn’t seem aware of it. “What? Oh. Thanks.” She smiles bitterly. That’s the kind of smile Faith is used to seeing from Buffy, and it stings a little. “Kind of a non sequitur there, Faith, weren’t we talking about old movies?”

“I don’t watch old movies,” says Faith. “Never had the time when I was a kid, and then—” She stops herself. “Well. You know. Not a lot of time in prison, either.”

Buffy flinches a little at that.

It was so much easier to define their relationship before Faith went and fucked everything up. Or maybe it wasn’t, because Buffy was and is one of the biggest mysteries Faith’s ever had to figure out. Still, at least they were sort of friends that first time around. Now all they have between them is the lingering memory of once caring about each other.

Or, no, that’s not true. Faith doesn’t think anything can stop her from caring about Buffy. She’s tried (god, has she tried), but she still remembers—bits and pieces of touches, the way it felt to dance with Buffy in the Bronze. Almost-kisses, nothing beyond that. Pretty apt metaphor for their relationship, actually.

Faith thinks that all that keeps Buffy in this room with her is the memory of those almost-kisses. The possibility that once, there was almost something beautiful between them.

She flips through the channels some more, away from the creepy kids’ show and into one of those family sitcoms. “If our life was a TV show,” she says, “what channel would we be on?”

“Messed-Up Slayers,” says Buffy. Faith notes the plural with a happy-sad twist. “Channel 54.”

“Why 54?”

“I don’t know,” says Buffy, “what channel do you think we’d be on?”

“Channel 69,” says Faith significantly, and she thinks it’s because Buffy wasn’t expecting it that her joke gets an actual laugh. “See? Some definite merits there.”

“You’re awful,” says Buffy, and gives Faith an actual smile. “Okay. Messed-Up Slayers, Channel 69. God, that sounds like porn, we need a different channel, Faith.”

Faith starts laughing too.

Hours later, they’ve turned out the lights. They don’t fit together like puzzle pieces in the motel bed (in the TV version, they probably do, Faith thinks idly, they probably cuddle under the bedsheets and hold each other as the sun goes down), but that’s kind of okay. Faith lies on her back and stares at the ceiling; Buffy lies on her side and stares at the wall.

“You still awake?” Faith asks quietly.

Buffy doesn’t say anything for so long that Faith figures she’s fallen asleep. Then, “Spike and I slept together last night.”

“Don’t bother with the dirty details, B,” says Faith, trying to make it sound light and not sharp.

“No, just—” Buffy exhales tiredly. “Just sleeping,” she says. “We slept. That was it.”

Faith doesn’t quite get why Buffy is telling her this. “I’m sorry,” she says again. It feels like the only safe response.

“I—wanted someone to hold me.” Buffy is turned away from Faith, still, but even in the dim light Faith can see the stiff way she’s now holding herself. “I miss that.”

Faith considers this, wonders if she’s brave enough to reach out and take Buffy’s hand. It’s what Buffy wants, possibly, and this could be her way of asking for it, in a roundabout way. But Faith doesn’t know if she’s brave enough to reach out and feel Buffy’s hand pulled sharply, accusingly away. “You’ll find some other guy,” she says.

Buffy is silent, again, and again it’s just when Faith thinks she’s asleep that she says, “Maybe that’s not what I want.”

Faith wakes up early. Used to be that she slept in late, but she fell asleep so early last night that she’s up almost before the sun. She showers, gets all the post-apocalypse crud out of her hair, thinks about Buffy tiredly but guiltlessly. She doesn’t have time for that panicked self-hate anymore, not when everyone seems to be grieving all of a sudden.

Dressed in only a towel, Faith slips out and knocks on Giles and Andrew’s door. Giles opens it, looking very much like he would rather be asleep.

“What,” he says tiredly.

“Gee, thanks,” says Faith sardonically. “Look, you’re usually super good at planning. You have any clean clothes I can borrow?”

Giles mutters something about it being much too early for him to be harassed like this (Faith rolls her eyes) and retreats back into the bedroom. He resurfaces a few seconds later, handing Faith a tote bag. “There’s something in there,” he says, “probably, though I expect we’ll have to go shopping for more,” and shuts the door in Faith’s face.

When Faith got to Sunnydale for the very first time, Giles hadn’t bothered to train her all that often. He said that her Watcher had probably taught her the basics more extensively, seeing as she’d been under tutelage for longer than Buffy, and she could just work with Buffy on honing her technique.

Faith sometimes wonders if Giles ever considered that maybe a little effort on his part might have gone a long way for her. She doesn’t think it’s something that he’s ever going to realize, and she doesn’t really care enough about him to be angry at him for that. It was never really him who made her want to stay in Sunnydale, after all.

Coming back into the bedroom, she sees that Buffy is still conked out, so she gets dressed as quietly and quickly as she can in the bathroom before lying back down on top of the bedsheets. She’s wearing a shirt that she thinks might be Buffy’s, freshly laundered. Giles always did think ahead when it came to his little girl, she thinks, and feels that old, confusing jealousy rise in her. It’s not that she’s ever wanted Giles’s attention—obviously not—but god, she’s always wanted to be as loved as Buffy.

On the bed, Buffy stirs, makes a strange, plaintive noise and pulls the blankets close around her. She mumbles something, a name that Faith can’t make out, a name Faith doesn’t think she knows, and opens her eyes all the way.

“B?” says Faith tentatively.

“Too many people die,” is all Buffy says before she gets up and heads to the shower.

For lack of anything better to do, Faith turns on the TV again. There’s a rerun of I Love Lucy, and Buffy’s comment from the day before keeps her from changing the channel. It’s not all that great, and Faith’s lost interest after thirty seconds. She’s never been all that big a fan of things with laugh tracks, like they’re telling you when you’re supposed to think something’s funny.

Buffy comes out of the shower in only a towel. Faith looks up and is grateful for the fact that Buffy doesn’t know enough about women to know when one is checking her out. She looks away after a few seconds, and Buffy says, “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Giles packed some clothes,” said Faith. “He probably thought ahead for you, but I don’t have a lot of stuff, so I borrowed something of yours.”

“No, that’s fine, I just—” Buffy exhales softly. “It’s fine,” she says again, and picks up the tote bag, taking it into the bathroom to change. She comes back out in a dark blue sweater, and sits down next to her on the bed. There’s about two inches of space between them, but the distance looms wide. “Oh, I Love Lucy!” she says, and beams, sunshine-bright. “I didn’t know you were listening yesterday.”

“You seem better,” says Faith tentatively.

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised what a shower can do,” Buffy answers, and scoots a little closer. One inch between them. “You seem…subdued.”

“Subdued?” Faith echoes, amused.

“I don’t know—” Buffy blushes, looking down. “In my head, you’re always kicking ass and taking names.”

“Wish I lived in your head,” says Faith, smiling easily.

They’d been bubbling over with energy, all of them, in that school bus. Faith had been ready to save the world five times over and Giles had been talking about rebuilding the Council and Dawn had had an exhaustedly breathless look in her eyes. There had been death, sure, but this had been one of the biggest victories all of them had ever seen since joining the fight. It had been easy to forget in that moment how hard-won that victory was.

Buffy hugs Dawn, hard, when they all clamber wearily back onto the school bus again. Faith, feeling something of an outlier, sits down in the front of the bus, near enough to Giles for her to ask him, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” says Giles thoughtfully, which is kind of freaky to Faith. The battle feels like it’s turned everything upside-down. Buffy’s vampire boyfriends are no longer in the picture. Giles doesn’t know where he’s going and doesn’t seem all that bothered by it. Willow’s all cuddly with a Potential in the backseat of the bus, and Xander’s missing an eye (to be fair, Xander lost the eye before Sunnydale blew up, but it’s still a lot to get used to). “We’re figuring it out as we go, I expect.”

“We’re stopping by a mall first, though,” Buffy informs him, “because we could use some actual new clothes and blankets and supplies and stuff.”

“Fair enough.” Giles starts up the bus.

Faith stares out the window for a while, watching the highway whiz by. She’s not sure how to feel. She left prison to help the crew stop Angelus. She left Angel’s team to help Buffy stop the end of the world as they knew it. Where does the extra Slayer go when she’s not even the extra Slayer anymore?

It’s selfish, maybe. But Faith never got that feeling Buffy did of being the one-girl-in-all-the-world. She’d heard about Buffy Summers before she ever got her Slayer powers, and she’s become very used to feeling like some kind of commodity. A tool brought out to speed the process along.

Buffy, though—Buffy looks at Faith, sometimes, and Faith feels like more than that. Faith doesn’t know if she can press that subject, though, because Buffy might be grieving right now in her own closed-off, hidden way.

Buffy is sitting between Dawn and Xander, and it looks like they’re reminiscing. Xander’s telling a story about some test he failed in high school or some chick who dumped him or whatever it is that kids who go to high school talk about. Faith wants to feel jealous and angry like she used to. She just feels a sense of tired acceptance.

Someone sits down next to her, and Faith looks up. Kennedy. “Hey,” she says, not sure what the kid wants.

Kennedy inclines her head, then says, “Maybe my gaydar’s a little off—”

“Oh,” says Willow very loudly from the back of the bus, “gaydar,” and starts grinning a lot for some reason before turning to join Buffy and Xander’s conversation.

Kennedy rolls her eyes with a small smirk. “Anyway,” she says, “you should tell her how you feel.”

“Now is so not the time,” says Faith, which has multiple meanings: now isn’t the time for her to tell Buffy, now isn’t the time for Buffy to find something like that out, now isn’t the time for Kennedy to be talking to Faith about this (to be fair, though, there’s really no time during which Faith would want anyone to talk to her about this).

“Do you think there’s ever really going to be a time?” Kennedy asks. It’s mostly a rhetorical question, but it’s clear she thinks Faith should probably have an answer. She doesn’t wait for one, choosing instead to get up from her seat next to Faith and walk to the back of the bus again, settling herself on her girlfriend’s lap and distracting a curious Willow with giggly kisses.

Faith notices Buffy watching, expression unreadable. She turns back to the window and tries to figure out what she would tell Buffy, if she was ever going to tell Buffy anything.

Tell her how you feel.

Joke’s on you, Ken, Faith thinks, I don’t know how I feel about a single fucking thing right now.

The seat next to her is once again taken by someone. This time, when Faith turns, it’s Buffy, shrugging awkwardly at Faith’s startled look. “You looked kinda lonely,” she says, by way of explanation, and smiles a little.

“You could sit with your friends,” Faith observes.

Buffy exhales. “Yeah,” she says. “But—”

Without thinking, Faith says, “Is this because your boy toy’s dead?”

The bus is suddenly, uncomfortably still. Buffy’s lips part, but she doesn’t say anything, just stares straight ahead. Faith almost wants to apologize, but can’t, because this tentative friendliness feels painfully familiar. She’d replaced Angel, once, for a few weeks, before he made his miraculous re-appearance. She doesn’t feel like doing that again. Knowing her luck, Spike’ll probably come back from the un-dead again too.

“Maybe,” says Buffy.

Faith hadn’t actually been expecting an answer, and is somewhat aware of the fact that literally everyone is now listening in on their conversation (even Giles, though he’s doing an impressively good job of hiding it). “I can’t be second best again,” she says, understanding, suddenly, her reticence to feel for Buffy. God, B, we’re falling into the same old pattern again, aren’t we?

“To me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, B,” says Faith. “I can’t be second best to someone else who’s in love with you.”

She says it quietly enough that it isn’t audible to anyone but Buffy, which is a pretty impressive feat considering that Andrew is right now watching them with badly-hidden interest. Everything they were angry about so long ago feels like Sunnydale: a smoldering hole in the ground, not long-dead but still dead enough that it can’t matter anymore.

Buffy doesn’t say anything. Faith can’t bring herself to look over and see shock, disgust, rejection, so she trains her eyes on the cars speeding by next to them and wonders how many of them watched the morning news and saw a story about Sunnydale’s explosion.

She feels a hand rest quietly over hers. Looks over. Buffy is staring straight ahead, mouth trembling as though she might cry. Her hand shakes over Faith’s, but it stays solidly there without hesitation.

Faith understands—or, maybe. Hopefully. She flips her hand over, entwining her fingers carefully and deliberately with Buffy’s, giving Buffy enough time to pull away. Buffy doesn’t. Buffy holds tight, and lets out a breath Faith didn’t realize she was holding.

“Messed-Up Slayers,” says Buffy in a small, small voice. “They could write a rom-com about us, maybe.”

“Slow burn,” says Faith. “Give the blonde time to make sure it doesn’t end up being some disaster rebound.”

“Yeah,” says Buffy, “yeah,” and rests her head on Faith’s shoulder.

They stop by the mall. Willow drags Kennedy off to make out in the food court, Giles keeps on lingering by a computer store with a wistful-sad expression on his face, Dawn and Xander are actually buying the things everyone came to the mall for in the first place, the Potentials are wandering aimlessly and talking in quiet, sad voices, and Faith and Buffy are walking, hand in hand, not really going anywhere in particular.

“How long do you think it’ll take before you’re not a rebound?” Buffy asks, looking up at Faith.

Faith shrugs. “How long do you think it’ll take for you to love me?”

Buffy turns a little pink and looks down. “You know, I-I’m new—to this,” she says haltingly. “Or, not really, I guess, because—back when—I was too busy with Angel, senior year, and that was stupid, because—I always thought—I wasn’t brave enough, but—”

“Spit it out, B,” says Faith, heart pounding.

Buffy still can’t look at her. Unsteadily, she says, “I-I kinda fell in love with you, a little, back then.”

The hungry, desperate side of Faith that has always and will always be a tiny little part of her wants to kiss Buffy right then, before Buffy slips away for the seventeenth time and Faith is left as a monster of her own making. The Faith who has learned, and grown, and is stumbling towards redemption, says, “Past tense?”

“Present,” says Buffy. “I think.” She smiles at her feet. “Didn’t really click until Willow came out, and then I started thinking, well, I thought about kissing Faith sometimes in senior year, does that make me gay? And then I read a lot of online articles about bisexuality, and Giles and I had this talk a few years back that was, like, one of the most mortifying experiences ever but also really sweet.”

“Let me guess,” says Faith. “That guy with the band candy who Giles tried to murder one time was his ex.”

Buffy giggles. “Shh,” she says, swatting at Faith’s shoulder, “he’s still sulky about Ethan.”

They walk in silence for a few minutes, but it’s a comfortable kind. It doesn’t feel like Faith’s world has been turned upside down or anything; she thinks some part of her might have always known Buffy loved her too. She doesn’t think it would have been so easy to love Buffy if Buffy hadn’t been able to love her back just as much.

“I’m pretty new to this, too,” Faith observes. “You’re—” She looks over at Buffy. “Shit, B,” she says with an embarrassed laugh, “I’m not all that great at getting mushy-romantic. That okay?”

Buffy nods, and gives Faith a crooked smile. “You’re right, though,” she says. “I need some time. Just—you’ll wait?”

Faith thinks that she’s been waiting much longer than Buffy realizes for a moment like this. When you’re a girl who’s in love with a girl, sometimes all you live on is stolen moments and borrowed hope. The possibility of a someday is so much more than Faith thought she would get. “As long as it takes,” she says.

Buffy smiles, then laughs softly.

“What?”

“Just—” Buffy grins. “Finally,” she says, “someone with my lifespan and superhuman strength. We should have done this way sooner.”

Faith grins back. “You’re a dork,” she says.

Buffy squeezes Faith’s hand, heartbeat-quick, and turns, placing her other hand on Faith’s shoulder. Then she says, “Listen, this—this isn’t gonna be a rebound thing, when it happens. I know that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Buffy smiles. Faith remembers that smile—the shy, happy little grin that Buffy had always reserved only for her four years ago. “And no one’s going to end up killing anyone, this time around.”

“Glad we’re setting some ground rules here, blondie,” says Faith very seriously. “I was really considering going to town on a few of these mall-goers.”

Buffy bites her lip, then says, “We don’t—I need time, but—sometimes, with you, I feel like I never have enough of that, so—” Pressing her free hand flat against Faith’s shoulder, she says, “In case—”

“There’s no in case this time around,” says Faith emphatically, and places a hand on Buffy’s cheek. “Got it?”

“Then no in case,” says Buffy, “no time shortage, none of that, not even thinking about any of that—”

She looks like she wants to ask something but isn’t sure how. Faith thinks she knows what Buffy wants, isn’t sure how to give it to her, but they’re interrupted by a giggling Willow and Kennedy stumbling out of a nearby elevator.

“Oh, hey, guys!” Willow’s breathless, her cheeks a shade of red that comes quite close to matching her hair. “Kennedy and I were—”

“We got it,” says Buffy, and suddenly the hesitant vulnerability is replaced by an effortlessly cheerful smile. Faith is kind of impressed. “Let’s go see how everyone else is doing.”

They end up staying at another motel again. There are more rooms free, this time, but some things stay the same. The Potentials still want to all be in the same room, complete with Dawn as company. Xander and Robin still have rooms of their own, and Faith and Buffy stay in a one-bed room on the second floor.

Technically, though, Buffy’s room is on the third floor, right near Xander’s. But after everyone’s bunked down for the night, Faith hears a knock on her door.

Buffy’s standing there, eyes quiet and bright. She steps into the room, shutting the door behind her and placing her new wheeled suitcase by the nightstand. “I love you,” she says, quiet and matter-of-fact.

“I love you too,” says Faith, a half-laugh, trying to make it sound like a joke even though it really isn’t. She’s afraid, suddenly. “What’s up?”

Buffy shrugs, a small, jerky motion. Then she says, “This could be a rebound. That kinda scares me, you know? You’re so pretty and we wasted so much time and I still miss Spike but I still love you and everything feels so mixed-up and scary and I can’t—”

“Hey.”

“—can’t mess this up, can’t mess us up, not again, not like last time,” Buffy says in a high, thin voice, “Faith, all of my relationships end in either death or someone leaving town to go hook up with someone else, and I really don’t like our odds right now.”

“To be fair,” says Faith, “you’ve only dated guys.”

Buffy sniffle-laughs. “That’s not funny,” she says unconvincingly.

“We’ve got time,” Faith reminds her. “We’re not the two girls in all the world anymore, remember? And I’m willing to put my death wish on hold if it means I get to make out with you.”

That makes Buffy start laughing and crying at the same time, which makes Faith (unaccustomed to touch) sort of pat Buffy on the shoulder, and then Buffy’s crying into her shoulder about how pretty Faith is and how sad Buffy is and how she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to feel about Spike and how she wishes she and Faith had met before Angel because then maybe her life wouldn’t be as much of a mess as it feels like it is right now, and holy shit, Faith didn’t realize that she wasn’t the only scared one here. “Hey,” she says, as soothing as she can, “hey, baby,” there, that feels right, that kind of pet name with that kind of love in her voice, “hey, it’s really going to be okay. All right?”

Buffy looks up, eyes wet, and kisses Faith.

Faith gets a head rush and falls onto the floor. This isn’t exactly as graceful as most of her encounters with guys, and she’s hoping that Buffy will take this secret to the grave. When she pulls away to sit up, Buffy’s laughing really hard. “Oh, yeah, super funny,” she says, but she’s laughing too, “maybe you’re just a really good kisser, all right?”

“That was, like, a C+ kiss at best,” Buffy teases her, sniffling. They’re sitting, knees touching, in front of the hotel bed. “I don’t have my A-game on when I’m crying about stuff.”

“God, I can’t wait to see your A-game,” Faith breathes, and threads her fingers through Buffy’s hair, pulling Buffy to her. Buffy laughs against Faith’s mouth, and they’re both laughing and crying and it’s an absolute fucking mess. Technically speaking, it’s probably one of the worst kisses Faith has ever given anyone.

Metaphorically speaking, it’s the best kiss of Faith’s life.

They don’t have sex. Mostly it’s because Buffy’s still kinda freaked about Faith being a rebound, and Faith has similar worries, but they do snuggle up under the covers and fight over the remote, Slayer-style (maybe not Slayer-style, unless the other Potentials use kisses as distraction tactics), until they’re watching an Audrey Hepburn movie, both of them almost asleep.

“I wanted this so much when I was seventeen,” Faith says softly.

She thinks, for a moment, that Buffy’s asleep. Then Buffy says, “Me too.”

#buffy femslash #buffy femslash secret santa #fic #fuffy #faith lehane #buffy summers #angsty girls in love!!!! hope u like it clementine

47 notes · View notes