Date Night (3 page)

The blonde slayer pulled a dining room chair from its set and carried it to the living room in order to better reach the top of the still-bare Christmas tree. Although the lights were still tangled, she felt as though she needed to hang
something
on the tree or she'd go insane.

Buffy nearly fell from the chair she was standing on when the telephone rang unexpectedly. The cordless phone rang shrilly from its discarded location on the coffee table.

When Buffy hastily picked up the phone on its third ring, a familiar husky voice flooded the line: “Hey sexy,” the woman on the other end purred. “What are you wearing?”

Buffy laughed despite her formerly disgruntled mood. “Wouldn't
you
like to know?” she teased back.

“I keep askin', but you keep holding out on the details,” the feminine, but raspy voice complained.

Buffy looked down at her outfit. “Well, if you really must know,” she started with a chuckle, “I'm wearing a ratty old t-shirt and flannel pajama pants.”

“Oooo,” the other girl cooed. “You sure know how to get me hot. I'm
so
into Lumberjack Chic.” Faith couldn't help but tease the elder slayer. “For real, you're in your pajamas already?”

Buffy sighed and her mouth twisted into a frown. “I'm an old lady, Faith. What can I say?”

“Guess I should hop on the next plane and come over then,” the Boston girl noted. “Liven things up for ya. You're probably even more of a lightweight than normal,” she snickered. “Then I can get you drunk and have my way with you.”

The Californian smirked, but didn't take the bait. Each time she and the younger slayer chatted, either on the phone or over the internet, Faith became more and more brazen with her flirtations. For the most part, Buffy did little to encourage the Boston girl, but she also hadn't put a stop to it. If she really let herself think about it, the brunette's attentions were a flattering and needed distraction most evenings.

“So where's Presto tonight?” Faith asked in a nonchalant tone after it was clear the Californian wasn't going to continue the one-sided flirtations.

“I wish you wouldn't call him that,” the blonde complained.

After that first initial night online when Preston had passed out prematurely, the two former enemies had grown closer. But with the increased communication over the past few months, also came a slight undertone of bitterness from the Boston girl whenever the elder girl mentioned her significant other.

“Fine. Where's Prest
on
?” the darker slayer huffed, emphasizing the second syllable just for her sister-Slayer. “I thought you guys would be gettin' horizontal with each other by this hour.”

“Classy as always, Faith,” Buffy curtly replied.

The brunette grunted a short laugh on the other end of the phone. “You wouldn't love me half as much if I changed, B. Don't lie to yourself.”

“He has to work early at the office tomorrow morning,” the elder slayer lied, purposefully ignoring that the Boston girl had dropped the L-word. “So he just left, actually.”

Buffy didn't know why she felt compelled to lie to Faith when it came to the status of her relationship with Preston. But some part of her needed Faith to believe that her relationship with the boy was ideal. She could tell Willow, she could tell Dawn, she probably could even tell Xander, that things weren't always picture-perfect with the Cleveland boy, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words to Faith.

What was that about?

“So did you patrol tonight?” Faith asked casually. “Kill any Big Bads?”

“No,” the blonde revealed. “Rona and Vi take patrol for me Friday nights, remember?”

“Ah, that's right,” the Boston girl chuckled. “The Boss gets the night off.”

“And you don't think I deserve a night off?” Buffy challenged.

Faith seemed to ignore the hostile tone. “Honestly?” she stated, her voice raising an octave. “I think you deserve to retire. But I know you're not ever gonna slow down. That's not you.”

Buffy felt her rising anger falter at Faith's words. “No,” she sighed. The blonde rubbed at her face. “No, it's not.”

The Californian abandoned decorating the Christmas tree momentarily and sat down on her couch. She pulled her legs up into her torso and grabbed a nearby afghan to wrap up in.

“So what's up with you tonight?” Buffy asked. “Tough patrol?” She didn't want to point out that it was later than usual for the two slayers to be talking, or press the reasoning behind it. The elder girl didn't want it to seem like she was keeping tabs on the other slayer.

“Naw. It's seriously slow over here,” Faith complained. “It's making me all itchy; I haven't had a good slay in weeks.”

“The calm before the storm?” the blonde asked, interested. Evil had a bad habit of quieting down right before it imploded.

“I dunno,” the Boston girl yawned. “Is it bad that I'm missing there being some kind of apocalypse? I feel like we haven't really had, yunno, Impending Doom in a while.”

The Chosen One chuckled. “Well maybe if you've been a
really
good girl this year, Santa will get you an apocalypse for Christmas.”

“Fat chance that's gonna happen,” Faith snickered. Her tone suddenly dropped an octave. “You know I've never been a good girl.”

Buffy felt a small chill descend her spine. The Boston girl's husky burr, even over the phone, always had that affect on her. If the slaying gig didn't work out for her, there was always the age-old profession of phone-sex operator.

“Speaking of Santa,” Buffy continued, wanting to quickly change the subject, “do you have plans for Christmas?”

Faith snorted into the receiver. “What do you think?”

“You wouldn't want to…maybe…come
here
, would you?” Buffy asked. “Spend the holiday in Cleveland?”

“Wouldn't want to impose,” the Boston girl said gruffly.

“You wouldn't be imposing at all,” the blonde immediately insisted. “Dawn's still at school, and Will's in Scotland with Kennedy and Giles, and who knows where Xander is these days…so I don't really have any plans this year.”

“You and Prez-man don't have plans?” the dark-haired girl asked suspiciously.

Buffy ignored Faith's continued refusal to refer to her boyfriend by anything other than his real name. “No,” she admitted. “We haven't talked about it, actually. I didn't want to make plans with him in case the End of the World happened,” she laughed. “I'm sure his parents would be disappointed.”

“I bet his parentals adore you, eh?” Faith teased. There was no bitterness in her voice, only mirth.

“Can we not talk about Preston and his family?” the blonde countered.

Although Preston had repeatedly tried to get Buffy to meet his parents, somehow slaying had always gotten in the way. It was a touchy subject for Buffy because her boyfriend continually accused her of purposely ducking out of plans he'd made with them. She tried to convince him otherwise, but even she wasn't certain why she was dragging her feet when it came to meeting his family.

The Californian could almost hear the shrug across the telephone line. “Sure, B,” Faith breezed. “No skin off my back. What do ya wanna talk about instead?”

“I don't know,” the blonde sighed. “You pick a topic.”

Faith chuckled mischievously. “That's dangerous, Blondie. You of all people should know when given the chance I bring all conversations back to sex.”

Buffy couldn't help but smirk. “Well, we all know that's not happening…so another topic. Please,” she implored.

The Boston girl let out a disgruntled, yet playful sigh. “Fine, have it your way.”

“I'm sorry,” the blonde apologized quickly. “I'm just in a funk,” she explained. “I think I need a topic that'll get my mind off of some stuff.”

“Stuff?” Faith asked, her interest perking. “Like what?”

Buffy hesitated and momentarily considered revealing her recent dissatisfaction with her boyfriend. Instead, she settled for vagueness: “Just some stuff.”

There was a brief pause before the dark-haired slayer continued. “Alright, well if you're not willing to share….How about this -what's one of your happy places?”

“Happy place?” Buffy questioned.

“Ya know…like where are you the most happy?” Faith explained.

The Californian thought about the question briefly. “Um…at home with Dawn and the gang, I guess?”

Faith made a noise. “That's boring, B. Pass.”

Buffy gave a disgruntled snort. “Fine. How about dancing?” she remarked. “I haven't been to a club in a while,” she noted.

“Alright,” the Boston girl agreed. “I can work with that. Go turn on some music.”

“Why?” the Chosen one questioned.

“Do you want me to help you get happy or not, B?” Faith asked, the mild impatience tinting her tone. “Stop questioning me and just do it, already. And make sure it's something you could dance to.”

“Fine,” the blonde huffed, but obeyed the Boston girl's command.

While still on the phone with the dark-haired slayer, she went to the home theater system where her iPod was perched in a speaker dock. She wasn't exactly sure how all the gizmos in her house worked - that was all Dawn's doing - but she could at least turn on music. She flipped through a brief selection of songs before settling on Framing Hanley's cover of “Lollipop.”

“Nice choice,” the younger slayer approved when she heard the thick bass and melodic notes filter over the phone line.

Faith was mildly surprised by the blonde's song choice, having expected something more embarrassingly Top 40 like Britney Spears. The song seemed more
her
style than the Californian's, but she didn't comment on it. “Now go lay down on the couch or something and close your eyes,” she commanded.

Buffy opened her mouth to once again question her sister-Slayer, but realizing it would only garner her more frustration from the Boston girl, she wordlessly obeyed. She grabbed a throw pillow and propped her head up while stretching the rest of her figure over the expanse of the couch.

“Are you laying down?” Faith asked after a few moments.

“Mmhmm,” the blonde confirmed. “I'm on the couch in the living room.”

“Good,” Faith noted. “Now I want you listen to the music and think of a club. It doesn't have to be one you've ever been at, but I want you to picture this place in your mind,” she said. “It's dark, but different colored lights are flashing on the dance floor, giving off just enough light.”

“The floor is crowded, but not too crowded,” Faith continued in her even tone. “There's just enough bodies there that you can lose yourself to the music. Lose yourself, B,” she said huskily. “Everything about this place is beckoning for you to come shake your ass. Bodies are moving in time with the music, no longer individuals, but one giant mass of grinding flesh.”

Buffy remained on the couch with her eyes closed and imagined everything that Faith described in vivid details. With her ears filled with music pounding from the home theater and Faith's voice in her head, she was there. She was on the dance floor. She could almost smell the sweat of close, dancing bodies. She could almost taste the humidity in the air.

“Remember how we used to let loose after patrol?” the brunette noted. “I remember how you became a different person on the dance floor. You were unrestricted…you came alive.”

Dancing had always been her outlet, for as far back as she could remember. Whether ice dancing, cheerleading, or letting loose after a good slay, she could find release. Despite whatever turmoil she was experiencing in her life, all she needed was music and a crowded dance floor where she could forget her responsibilities. Dancing had always been her escape.

Her body felt inexplicably light and yet energized as she lay on her couch in Cleveland, Ohio. As Faith continued to murmur in her ear, Buffy felt free, without worries, and without anxieties as she let her mind take her to a different place.

"You know what,” Buffy commented, interrupting the Boston girl's tale, “this is actually helping."

Faith snickered. “Don't act so surprised, Twinkie.”

“Where did you get this idea?” Buffy asked, mildly impressed that the dark-haired girl had so easily gotten her to relax.

Faith made an indistinguishable noise. “Eh, was just a calming mechanism they taught us in prison,” she admitted without shame. “To help us manage anger and shit like that.”

“You can continue now,” the blonde said matter-of-factly.

The Boston girl chuckled. “Anyone ever tell you that you're kinda bossy, B?”

“Yes, but I'm hot enough to get away with it,” the elder girl lightly laughed.

Faith sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, so back to the club…”

Buffy sat up on the couch. “What? You don't think I'm hot enough to get away with it?” she pouted.

“No disagreement on this end, B,” the dark-haired slayer said quickly. “I'm just trying to get you to a happy place…not trying to charm my way into your pants.”

The Californian laughed. “Well that's a relief.”

“Stop interrupting me, woman,” Faith joked. “I can't give ya a happy if you keep distracting me.”

Feeling suddenly stiff, Buffy stretched out her legs more fully, extending her toes. She stretched her midsection as well and made a small, moaning noise. Faith paused and cleared her throat upon hearing the very sexual sound.

“Why'd you stop talking?” Buffy asked.

“If you keep making those noises,” the brunette commented in earnest, “I'd happily become mute.”

Buffy smiled. “I thought you weren't trying to get into my pants?” she teased, picking at imaginary lint on the blanket covering her legs.

“Or get you
out
of them,” Faith noted with a wicked grin.

Buffy scoffed. “You're such a dork.”

“Oh yeah?” Faith challenged lightly. “Well, this dork can stop talking about this club, ya know.”

“No, no,” the blonde insisted. “Keep going.”

“I'm actually kinda out of ideas, B,” Faith admitted. “I can only do details so much, ya know? I'm not an expert at this kinda stuff.”

The California sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Detecting the disappointment in Buffy's voice, Faith decided to try something else. “How about this? We make this situation a little more fun,” she proposed.