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Femslash Ficathon 2007
"The Same Old Story" (BtVS, Buffy/Faith for globalfruitbat) 
12th-Mar-2007 07:43 pm
Buffy/Faith
Title: The Same Old Story
Author: minim_calibre
Recipient: globalfruitbat
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Buffy/Faith
Rating: R
Word count: ~1100
Disclaimer: Characters owned by Mutant Enemy and other people who are not me. Couldn't have existed without sathinks.
Summary: "Faith's mouth tastes like saltwater taffy and cigarettes."



Faith's mouth tastes like saltwater taffy and cigarettes.

Buffy makes this discovery in a cemetery just outside of Cleveland. They're fighting each other again instead of fighting vampires or demons, and something inside Buffy kind of snaps, the way it did years before with Spike: punch, kick, scream, kiss. It's still an efficient way to shut someone up when you don't want to hear what it is they're saying, after all, and Faith's always telling her things she doesn't want to hear (always pushing, pushing, pushing, and she can't take it any longer).

Faith's mouth tastes like saltwater taffy and cigarettes, and Buffy understands the latter ("For god's sake, Faith, we're supposed to be being stealthy. On what planet is chain smoking stealthy?" "Lighten up, B. It's just a routine patrol, not black ops or another freakin' apocalypse. Who cares if they see us coming?"), but not the former. She's been watching Faith closely all night (always, who is she trying to kid?), and there's no way she's been eating sweets on the job. Maybe Faith just naturally tastes like candy. It would explain a lot.

Explain things like why Buffy's pushing her down onto the wet grass without breaking the kiss, or why her mouth just doesn't want to lose contact with Faith's once they're down there, even though whatever stupid argument they were having is long forgotten (for the moment, and she's sure she'll remember it later, whenever her head stops spinning, which may be a lot later at this rate). Or why it is that her hands have worked their way under Faith's shirt and are currently busy unhooking her bra (red and black lace, enticing and utterly inappropriate for slaying, totally appropriate for this).

Faith flips her over and sits up with a smirk ("Jesus, B, didn't know you cared."), leather-clad thighs clasped tight around Buffy's hips. The smirk turns into a smile, wide and feral and warm, and Buffy hasn't seen that smile in years (not since soon after they met, before everything went wrong, and something clenches in her gut, close to fear but not quite, thrilling and terrible all at the same time). There's a challenge in that smile, an invitation, too. One Buffy hadn't recognized for what it was all those years ago, hadn't understood. She gets it now, though. Meets it head on, and that thing in her gut unclenches, slithers loose.

She pulls Faith back down, hands greedy against the bare skin of Faith's back, mouth demanding against Faith's own. Sugar and smoke, and who knew she'd wind up needing that more than breathing? (Faith knew, she thinks. Must have always known, was trying to tell her this for years.) Hands. Hands are good. She likes hands. Faith's especially, which have found their way into the narrow space between their bodies to push Buffy's bra (her practical, heathered grey cotton blend bra of the sports variety, and thank god those don't have clasps, because her back's against the ground, and Faith's not letting her up any time soon) out of the way.

Somewhere in her brain, wires must have gotten crossed, maybe when she was born, maybe when she came back from the dead (which time?), because how else can Buffy explain how natural it feels to segue from fighting to sex? It's fight or flight gone wrong (or maybe right, because it doesn't feel wrong, even if it should, and she remembers something Faith said years ago, about what a good fight did to her, so maybe it's a slayer thing). She traces the line of Faith's jaw with lips and tongue, and revisits the candy theory, because Faith's skin tastes as good as her mouth, maybe even better (mostly sweet, just a hint of smoke). Moves her mouth lower, bites down (like Goldilocks: not too hard, not too soft, just right) and feels Faith jerk against her, hands fluttering and clenching into fists.

Faith's skin grows damp then slick with sweat beneath Buffy's hands, goes from saltwater taffy to plain saltwater. Faith's hands are soft, almost gentle as she works at the buttons on Buffy's jeans, popping them open slowly and pushing them down. (Exposing her, no more hiding, not from Faith, not any longer.) Blades of grass tickle the backs of her thighs, Faith's fingers tickle the front. (Faith's eyes, dark and wide, and Buffy's only seen her face like this in dreams.)

Buffy breathes, harsh gasps and gulps filled with the mingled smells of warm flesh and wet earth. (Graveyard dirt and a slayer's skin, memories of mud sliding patterns across a face that's hers/not hers, shadowed men and chained power.) Pebbles and twigs rough beneath her back, Faith rough between her thighs. She bucks against Faith's palm, grinding into it, urging her on ("Harder. Jesus. Fuck. Fuck." "Damn, B, didn't know you had it in you." "There's a lot you don't know about me, Faith." "Seems like.") until fireworks explode behind her eyes (she feels like she's been punched, drained, left for dead and made to like it).

Comes back to herself and gives as good as she gets (Faith's mouth tastes like saltwater taffy and cigarettes. Faith tastes like sea air and incense.), mouth rather than hands, kneeling until her knees and elbows stain green and brown with grass and mud, careful until she doesn't care about anything but the noises Faith makes, and the feel of Faith's fingers tangling in her hair, of Faith's body shuddering around her.

She closes her eyes, rests her head on Faith's stomach while they catch their breath. (And this feels right too, no shame, no pride, just good, like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place.) If they were in a bed, this is when she'd be pulling the covers around them and drifting off to sleep. But they're not in a bed, they're in a cemetery, in the middle of the night, (and she's cold and the grass is starting to itch) so she pushes away, reluctantly, putting her clothing back on.

Faith props herself up on her elbows, her face unreadable. ("You want to tell me what that was about?" "You kept pushing. Guess I just snapped.") Stands up and shakes her head, ("I've been pushing you for years, B.") before she pulls on grass-stained clothes, and gives a cautious smile. ("This is the first time you ever pushed back.")

Buffy smiles in return, tossing Faith one of the stakes discarded when they started to fight. ("Don't worry, Faith. I don't think it's going to be the last.")
Comments 
13th-Mar-2007 05:07 am (UTC)
I loved your use of parentheses; not enough people use them, and it's a terrible shame. I also loved the last line.

And cemetery sex! It's very wrong that there isn't more cemetery sex for a show like Buffy (I'm not sure what enough cemetery sex would look like).
13th-Mar-2007 05:17 am (UTC)
Enough cemetery sex would probably look like a Romero film crossed with Cinemax's late night programming.

(Sometimes, I think I need to go into parentheses detox.)

(I'm a little fonder of them than is perhaps healthy.)
13th-Mar-2007 05:20 am (UTC)
I really like the feel of this one, the style is great. Very vivid and relentless. Nice work on the voices, too.
13th-Mar-2007 09:14 pm (UTC)
Thank you!
13th-Mar-2007 06:23 am (UTC)
Hot! So hot! And I have to say this line her practical, heathered grey cotton blend bra of the sports variety, and thank god those don't have clasps, because her back's against the ground, and Faith's not letting her up any time soon sent me over the top, because so often you get bras pushed up, pulled dow, whatever, and ow! Those clasps would hurt!!

These voices were wonderful, adn this was great. Thank you for this stroy!
13th-Mar-2007 09:14 pm (UTC)
*g*

I'm glad you liked it! Yay!
13th-Mar-2007 06:41 am (UTC)
Ohhh. Niiiice. I need a cig, and I don't even smoke. Sensuous, sinuous, sleek women...

Moves her mouth lower, bites down (like Goldilocks: not too hard, not too soft, just right)
Great line.

no more hiding, not from Faith, not any longer
I've always felt that Buffy was hiding something, maybe from herself, in her reaction to Faith.
13th-Mar-2007 09:15 pm (UTC)
Thank you!

Man, I love that icon of yours.
13th-Mar-2007 06:46 am (UTC)
*fans self* This is awesome, and hot like a hot hot thing. :)
13th-Mar-2007 09:18 pm (UTC)
Yay! Thank you!

Mmm. Icon.
13th-Mar-2007 06:55 am (UTC)
*fans self*

Very nice. I love the structure too. (Parentheses are win.)
16th-Mar-2007 06:09 am (UTC)
Thank you! *I SEE YOU TOMORROW!!! YAY!*
13th-Mar-2007 10:38 am (UTC)
Oh, that was good. I have to agree with all the comments about structure, your use of parentheses worked really well for this fic. It's hard to define what makes for good B/F fic, what draws me in and makes me believe it, but this certainly did, the characters felt like themselves, or at least the way I imagine them. I liked the repetition and the almost poetic feel of your writing. Sad and true and hot as hell with a sense of relief at the end like a breath you didn't realise you were holding.

Faith props herself up on her elbows, her face unreadable. ("You want to tell me what that was about?" "You kept pushing. Guess I just snapped.") Stands up and shakes her head, ("I've been pushing you for years, B.") before she pulls on grass-stained clothes, and gives a cautious smile. ("This is the first time you ever pushed back.")

This really sums up their relationship.

16th-Mar-2007 06:11 am (UTC)
Thank you!

Sorry for the delay in responding (this is the week that Meetings Ate Me). I'm so very glad you enjoyed it.
13th-Mar-2007 12:50 pm (UTC)
GNARGHGGH. That was HOT.

So, after reading that, HOW exactly am I supposed to go read a 20-page article on "question negotiation and information seeking in libraries," huh? There is not nearly enough femslash in that article, by comparison.

I love loved loved "Hands. Hands are good. She likes hands" and "careful until she didn't care" (I love twists like that that make you stop and think about the real literal meaning of a word like "careful" that usually just slides by you, and "full of care" is a perfect description of Buffy in both good ways and bad).

And "left for dead and made to like it." Whoo.
16th-Mar-2007 06:12 am (UTC)
I think most things could be improved with more femslash.

9am meetings? Totally need more femslash.
13th-Mar-2007 01:18 pm (UTC)
I think the last time I read Buffy/Faith was in S3, and it took work on my part to get behind it. With canon where it ended up, this was effortless. And guiltless, which is the part I really liked.

(Not that Faith/anybody is ever work, but wow has Buffy changed over the years!)
16th-Mar-2007 06:13 am (UTC)
She really has. As Faith discovered in S7, causing her Slayer Identity Confusion.

(PS, should have a Very Thorough Response Thing to you by tomorrow. I'd wanted to get it done by today, but I've been having to work at work. What's up with that?)
13th-Mar-2007 01:35 pm (UTC)
Wow. WOW.

What all these other people said. I'm not feeling very verbose after that.

My favorite? Faith's mouth tastes like saltwater taffy and cigarettes. Faith tastes like sea air and incense.
16th-Mar-2007 06:14 am (UTC)
Thank you!

(I'm not feeling very verbose, myself. Think this thing stole all my wordiness for the week.)
13th-Mar-2007 01:41 pm (UTC)
Maybe Faith just naturally tastes like candy. It would explain a lot.

Yummy! (The story, not Faith. (Not just Faith.))
16th-Mar-2007 06:14 am (UTC)
Yay! High praise, in my books.
13th-Mar-2007 02:44 pm (UTC)
Somebody, you over there next to the thermostat, dial down the room temp, wouldja? And kick the fan on. Whoo, it got all steamy in here.

Excellently done. And thank you.
16th-Mar-2007 06:16 am (UTC)
Thank you! (Hands you fan.)
13th-Mar-2007 02:58 pm (UTC)
Hot and the perfect way for them to come together.

Buffy hasn't seen that smile in years (not since soon after they met, before everything went wrong, and something clenches in her gut, close to fear but not quite, thrilling and terrible all at the same time). There's a challenge in that smile, an invitation, too. One Buffy hadn't recognized for what it was all those years ago, hadn't understood. She gets it now, though. Meets it head on, and that thing in her gut unclenches, slithers loose.

Buffy couldn't have understood it then, but at this point in her life, she most certainly would.
16th-Mar-2007 06:17 am (UTC)
Hey! You quoted the part I drafted in my head as I hurried across the (soaking wet and muddy) soccer field to my bus! I like that part! And, yeah, Buffy's grown up/changed a lot since they first met. Especially about things like that.
13th-Mar-2007 03:08 pm (UTC)
Yum. That was lovely. ::smacks lips::

I fully support your use of parentheses. And cemetary sex.
16th-Mar-2007 06:18 am (UTC)
I'm so down with (you can pry them from my cold, dead, blah blah blah) parens.

I used to use them a lot more. Not so much in fiction, but in every day online conversation. They're handy dandy.
13th-Mar-2007 04:59 pm (UTC)
Hot, hot, hot. I may be a Spuffy at heart, but I've always loved the dynamic between Buffy and Faith. Faith's the only woman I can really see Buffy ever being with. And this felt so true for them.
16th-Mar-2007 06:19 am (UTC)
I think Faith's Buffy's very own We're Not Gay, We Just Love Each Other example.

Of course, Faith'd look at her and roll her eyes with a "What do you mean, we?"
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