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Honestly, Faith hadn’t planned any of this.
She just gets antsy whenever she’s recalled to the Castle in Scotland. She hates it, if she’s being honest. It doesn’t feel like a real place — too old, somehow too big and too claustrophobic at the same time. She’s got this theory: slayers are meant to be solitary, there was only ever supposed to be one at a time. She’d said to Buffy once that maybe that was why they could never get along. She thinks she might have been onto something, even if she’d only half-meant it then. Being around so many other slayers makes her skin buzz, makes her irritable and restless.
She’s here as a show of goodwill. And because B called and asked for her, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. As soon as the debrief ends, when Faith’s got her marching orders (leaving with a small team of girls to track down some magical book that’s been stolen, while Buffy leads another team to raid a vampire cult’s headquarters to free a kidnapped warlock) she bails.
They’re not leaving until tomorrow morning. It’s stupid, probably, to go get drunk when she’s got to be on a plane in a few hours, but there’s not exactly a huge amount of options for entertainment in rural Scotland. It’s pubs and churches and football clubs and only one of those is open at this time of night.
It’s not her first time in the area, so she already has a gameplan in mind when she rolls into town. She avoids the smaller local pub — townies always pay her too much attention. The chain pub on the high street is her best option — she knows she’ll stick out there too, but with a booth in the back and an unfriendly enough attitude, she might get a chance to drink in peace.
It goes okay, at first. She orders a pitcher of beer and a couple shots to boot, heads off to a dark corner. Smiles nice at the girl that serves her, glowers hard at every man that looks at her twice. A few pints in she takes another glance around the room, sizing up the barflies. Maybe it could be worth it, she thinks, finding someone to go home with. Blow off some steam — that itchy feeling from the Castle hasn’t quite left her and there’s no chance she’ll get to go slaying tonight, so a round or two with some stranger she won’t have to call again seems as good an outlet as any.
Then she glances at the clock on the wall. Wheels up in less than 10 hours. She should probably call it quits now, head back to the Castle. Work herself up to get some shuteye.
She orders another round of shots instead.
Slayer metabolism makes it kind of tough to stay drunk. Getting drunk? Easy enough. As long as she doesn’t slow down too much, it basically works. Unfortunately, this is the kind of behavior that tends to worry bar staff.
“Honey, I know you’re just doing your job, but I’ll let you know when I need something,” Faith says, pushing away the glass of water her waitress sets in front of her.
She holds up her hands. “Courtesy of that woman at the bar.”
Faith looks over to where she’s pointing.
Ah, shit.
As soon as they’ve made eye contact, Buffy slips off the barstool, crossing the room to slide into the empty spot across from Faith. She looks up at the waitress, smiling beatifically. “Thank you.”
Faith hunches low into her seat, barely managing not to fold her arms over her chest like a sulky teenager. “Hey Buffy.”
“Wow, don’t sound too excited,” Buffy rolls her eyes, leaning back into the booth. “A girl might get the idea you’re not that happy to see her.”
“Well, it ain’t personal. Just didn’t exactly expect you to crash,” Faith says, knocking back another shot just for something to do with her hands. “You’re kinda blowing up my spot here, B. Clam-jammin’. What if I was looking to get lucky?”
“I’d say that’s maybe not a great idea when you’re supposed to be on a plane in a little while. But then again, neither is getting hammered,” Buffy says, frowning. Then she leans forward, plucking a shot glass right from between Faith’s fingers and draining it with only a slight wince. “Are you?”
It takes Faith a beat to register Buffy’s question. She was still staring at the line of Buffy’s throat. “Huh? Am I what?”
“Looking to get lucky?” Buffy says, glancing around the room, that judgy little wrinkle between her brows.
Holy shit.
Faith blinks, hands clenched so tight around her pint glass she feels it start to give, a spiderweb of cracks spreading outward from her grip. She lets go quickly, flushing. Is this…?
She thinks about neon lights, traffic sounds, her shoulder pressing into Buffy’s, a feeling like falling without knowing where you were going to land.
“Are you, uh, offering?” Faith asks, wincing. Fuck. Way to go Lehane. Smooth.
It’s Buffy’s turn to go beet red.
Fuck. Okay, okay she wasn't. She definitely wasn’t.
“Sorry, sorry,” Faith says waving a hand in the air by her head as if she could swat away the clumsy offering lingering between them. “Swear I'm not trying anything, I know where we stand. Just drunk.”
And stupid. Sullenly, she draws her pint glass nearer and takes a hearty sip.
Surprising her, Buffy reaches out and pours her own glass of beer from the pitcher. Faith can count on one hand the number of times they've drank together. “You've been avoiding me.”
She can't help but notice the way Buffy doesn't meet her eyes when she says it.
Faith fidgets in her booth. “No,” she begins, cut short by the unimpressed look Buffy sends her across the table. “I mean not… You know I don't love your digs here, B. Too crowded. I needed to get out.”
“Only you would call 2 acres of land and a massive medieval building crowded,” Buffy scoffs.
Faith shrugs, “Yeah, well. I like my space.”
At this point, Faith even isn't sure if that's a lie anymore. She's been more or less on her own for the past few years since Sunnydale went down and all the Potentials were activated. Giles and the other eggheads at Buffy's place keep her busy - she lives on a generous stipend, flitting from place to place, taking down monsters, fighting the good fight. She's gotten good at being alone.
“You should have said something. You don't have to stay on the grounds if you hate it so much,” Buffy sighs, then leans an elbow on the table, propping her cheek against her palm. “Do you want to get a room here in town?”
The pub lighting is dim but warm, the yellow glow of the light fixture dangling over their table makes everything feel so intimate. For a moment, Faith lets herself indulge in a little fantasy - that they could be strangers or old friends, that Buffy asking if she wants to get a room could mean something else.
“Why'd you kiss me?” Faith asks, startling herself. They said they wouldn't talk about it, but fuck, not talking about it seems to be just as exhausting. Maybe this is better. Rip the band-aid off. Put those stupid little fantasies to bed.
“I don't know,” Buffy says, taking a guilty swig of beer. “I just… wanted to.”
It had been about a month ago. Faith got in over her head trying to hunt down a rogue witch who had integrated herself with a pack of vampires in Vegas. She'd called in for backup and had been surprised when Buffy herself arrived. They'd spent a week dealing with the mess down in Sin City, both of them nearly biting the big one a few times each. Sleeping in the same hotel room, first for convenience, then for the company.
Then, finally, the night after they'd finally staked their last vamp, Buffy had surprised her by electing to stay another night. They went out to celebrate. Danced. Drank a little.
The kiss felt like something she'd dreamed. Honestly, Faith hadn't even really been able to enjoy it — it had freaked her out. That's probably what ruined it. Faith never seems to get it right with Buffy, she'd been too stunned to kiss her back, to savor the moment. Sure, it probably wouldn't have gone anywhere, but at least she'd have had that memory. That one movie moment, kissing under neon lights on the strip, Buffy’s hands in her jacket. Instead she'd frozen, then it had been awkward and Buffy had apologized and well. Now they're here.
And it's awkward again.
I just wanted to. What the hell kind of answer was that?
“Trying something out?” Faith pushes, hoping for more. “Curious about chicks?”
Buffy flushes a little, buys herself time to answer with another drink of beer. “Not exactly. You're not the only girl I've kissed, Faith.”
That stings a little more than she expected it to.
“Oh.” She wants to ask more. Who? When? What did it mean then? Was it only kissing? Why wasn't Faith her first?
Buffy tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “It felt right in the moment. I don't know, it was impulsive. I hadn't thought it through. I guess… I mean, I assumed you wanted it.” Buffy winces. “Ugh, god, why does that make me sound gross?”
Faith feels like she'd just jabbed a fork into an electrical outlet. What the fuck.
“I did,” she blurts out. “Want it.”
“But you didn't even kiss me back—”
“Well, you fuckin pussied out like immediately, I hardly had a chance to react,” Faith shoots back. “Fuck, B, I was shocked.”
“I didn't know anything could shock you,” Buffy mutters.
“Fuck me,” Faith laughs, disbelieving. She plops her elbows on the table between them, leaning in to sink her hands into her hair, shaking her head.
“I got embarrassed,” Buffy admits. “Like, I'm Super Creeper Predator Girl all of a sudden and I totally misread like our entire deal for years and—”
“Our deal for years?” Faith echoes, looking up.
“You literally asked me to kiss you before,” Buffy points out. “There's always been that vibe. Don't play dumb.”
Faith flushes. She's not sure why this is embarrassing — she'd convinced herself that Buffy never picked up on what she wanted all those years. Learning otherwise now, she can't help but cringe a little at how desperate she'd been before. How obvious.
“You said it felt right in the moment,” Faith says, haltingly. She bites her lip and takes a chance, sliding across the u-shaped booth until her knee knocks against Buffy's under the table.
“Yeah” Buffy says, practically whispering. The light is casting shadows over her face. She smells good, perfume and the slight tang of beer on her breath. She looks like a painting, like something Faith could have dreamed.
“What made it feel that way?” Faith asks, letting her gaze drop to Buffy's mouth. Might as well make it obvious this time.
“We were a little tipsy,” Buffy says.
Faith reaches across the table, drags her pint glass over and takes a drink. She watches as Buffy, hands trembling, takes another sip of her own drink
“Yeah?” Faith prompts.
“Uh, you were close. Leaning on me.” Buffy doesn't break Faith’s gaze as she leans in, one arm sliding over the back of Buffy’s booth, crowding her. She presses her knee harder into Buffy's thigh
“Yeah,” Faith breathes.
Buffy’s eyes are huge. “You looked so pretty. And I just…”
Faith doesn't fuck it up this time. When Buffy lets her eyes drift shut, leans in, Faith meets her halfway. She kisses her with force — not rough, but with intention, the kind of thing it would be impossible to write off or misunderstand.
Faith wraps her arm around Buffy’s shoulder, pulling her close. With her free hand she reaches up, toying with a strand of Buffy's hair briefly before cupping her cheek. She licks at Buffy's lips, tastes strawberry lip gloss and lager.
It's like everything Faith imagined but more, better. Buffy’s lips are plush, her mouth is warm, inviting. She makes a little sound in the back of her throat that sets Faith's nerves on fire, makes her want to dive in, to push Buffy back into the booth hard, to feel her buck and squirm and to find out what other noises Faith could get her to make.
She holds back though, contenting herself with this. With Buffy's right hand on the back of Faith’s neck, holding her there. With her left fisted in the lapel of Faith's jacket, like the first time.
Faith lets the kiss linger. Savors it. Holds onto the moment for as long as she can.
When they finally pull apart, Faith stays in Buffy's space, eyes locked on hers, waiting for what's next.
Buffy bites her lip. Cranes her neck to look at the clock on the opposite wall, by the bar. “It's getting late. We have early flights tomorrow.”
Ah. Well, Faith tells herself, dumb to be disappointed now. To think this could ever have been something else. Greedy, too. She'd gotten another shot. She didn't waste it. It's more than she ever could have actually expected.
“Right,” Faith agrees, a little embarrassed by the hoarseness of her voice. She clears her throat, leaning back. “So—”
“We should probably get that room,” Buffy says, voice even, but Faith can see the nervousness on her face. “It'll save us time instead of driving back.”
“Oh,” Faith breathes. “You mean it?”
Buffy nods.
“Cool,” Faith says, stupidly and can't help the way she grins. “I'll close the tab.”