Message Received
by SwaySlayer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Buffy and Faith are not mine. I own nothing but Terry, the
insignificant reference and Marco, the insignificant waiter. I definitely
got screwed on ownership.
Author’s Notes: I need a cigarette. So much for profundity. LMFAO. Ok, ok, I
have NOT checked this.
Dedication: She need only read the summary to know this one is for her, but
for the rest of you, here it goes: To Kit. My family functions would not be
the same without your text messages. I am convinced that I blushed eleven
shades of red in the space of three hours. In addition, I had to ruin my
reputation with my aunt by excusing myself to have a cigarette – I was in
dire need of a release…
Feedback: Why not. It makes me happy. You do want to make me happy right?
Faith’s mobile beeped, indicating that she had received a text message, and she stubbed out her cigarette before reading it. ‘LOOK INSIDE’. Frowning slightly, Faith examined the number, which was unfamiliar, and wondered who had sent her such a simplistic, profound message. ‘Look inside’. That’s what Faith had been doing for the past few years – looking inside. She had cleaned out, scrubbed and exfoliated every inch of her soul in an attempt to clear a path for her future and, much to her surprise, had succeeded. She had found her niche in New York, inhaling the energy that hung in the air with great gulps and carving out a life for herself. To anyone else, it wasn’t much of a life, but to Faith, it was *the* life. She had her own apartment that she had worked her ass off to pay for, a steady job as a hostess at a popular nightclub and a small group of friends whom she saw on a regular basis. At present, she was sitting outside a coffee shop in the Village, planning the rest of her day and racking her brain for a reply to the message. That is, until she realised that she had been living too long on the holistic side of the coin, and, literally, looked inside.
The interior was dark and endearingly dingy. Faith peered inside and let her increased eyesight scan the scattering of patrons, eventually settling on a brunette who waved and exited the restaurant, coming to stand beside Faith’s table and smiling.
“Hey.” Faith’s jaw dropped open and the lighter she had been cradling between her thumb and forefinger clattered to the floor. Both brunettes bent down to retrieve it, knocking their heads against each other in the process. The smaller brunette handed Faith the lighter and rubbed her head in mock injury. “I always said you were hard-headed. Mind if I sit?” Faith shook her head dumbly and the seat beside her was occupied. “I think New York’s had an effect on you. What’s with the non-committal approach?” Faith continued to stare. “I’d even take your grunting over this.” Finally finding her voice, Faith reached out and fingered a loose strand of dark hair that hung delicately above the woman’s eye.
“What happened to your hair?”
“I needed a change.” Buffy tossed her head and the layered strands fluttered momentarily before settling around her face.
“It’s nice.”
“Nice?” Buffy sighed and placed her hand on Faith’s shoulder. “You couldn’t think of anything else to say but ‘nice’?” Faith shrugged.
“Would you have preferred ‘It doesn’t suck?’” Faith giggled, followed by a sharp yelp as Buffy’s fist connected with her arm. “Ow!”
“Oh come on! What a softie! I barely touched you, you…ow!”
“Now who’s a wuss?” Faith smirked and lit up another cigarette, her hand tingling from where she had made contact with Buffy’s skin. She offered the pack to Buffy. “Want one?” Buffy shook her head.
“I quit.”
“What? I thought a Summers’ never quit?”
“Funny.”
“I thought so too.” Faith inhaled deeply. “So that’s why you were sitting inside. Joining the ranks of the Anti-Smoking Brigade. I’m disappointed B. I thought you’d never leave me to smoke alone on the cold, harsh streets of New York.”
“Dramatic much?”
“I’ve taken a class or two.” Buffy chuckled.
“Yeah right.” Seeing that her response was not taken to heart, Buffy clamped a hand over her mouth and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. You have?”
“I thought it was tradition to take a few acting classes. When in Rome right?”
“I thought the Romans threw lavish parties, ate massive quantities of food and had hour-long orgies?”
“This is New York.”
“Oh.”
“We can’t afford the food.” The two brunettes laughed uproariously, attracting the attention of a few pedestrians. Faith shot them a death look as they scurried past, causing Buffy to laugh even harder.
“Now I remember why you scared the shit out of me when I first met you.” Faith blinked.
“What? I think I must have experienced the early signs of Slayer insanity, but I could swear you just said that you were scared of me.”
“I was. I was terrified of you.”
“Why?”
“A number of reasons.”
“And those were..?”
“Well, for one, you wore leather pants – something I didn’t have the balls to try – two, you said what was on your mind and three, you had the look that you used a few seconds ago. That alone was reason enough to fear you.” Faith chuckled.
“I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. It’s history.”
“So I don’t make you quake in your preppy white sandals anymore?”
“Hardly. The only thing that scares me about you is that you’re delusional about the amount of wit you possess. And they’re *off*-white preppy sandals.”
“I stand corrected.” Faith rested her cigarette in the ashtray and stood up. “I’m going to the john. Feel free to be a slave to temptation.” Faith waved her hand over the cigarette, directing the smoke towards Buffy who inhaled deeply. “Slut.”
“Eat me.”
“Don’t make me repeat it.” Faith sidestepped Buffy’s out-stretched leg and strode inside towards the bathroom. Left with the smouldering cigarette, Buffy avoided making eye contact by fiddling with her cellular phone. It was new – her previous one having been crushed under a ten-ton demon – and its many capabilities were a most welcome distraction when left to her own devices. She scrolled through her phonebook, making a mental note to call Dawn before she left New York, and stopped when she reached Faith’s name. Suddenly, a light haze descended on her brain, and she found herself typing another text message, pressing the buttons in a trance-like state. Her fingers flew expertly over the keys and before she had a moment to think about what she was doing, her thumb hit the ‘send’ button, and the message was on its way. She sat for a minute, trying to find some logical reason behind what she had just done, and when she could not locate any such logic, chose to panic instead. She thought about running but her feet remained firmly glued to the floor. She thought about throwing Faith’s phone behind the building but her conscience got the better of her. She thought about…..Faith’s phone. It was right in front of her, waiting to explode in two beeps that would possibly be the end of Buffy’s tether. She picked it up and waited.
It beeped. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief and was about to erase her message when she caught the faint scent of coffee, mixed with cigarette smoke and musk, and Faith plopped down beside her again.
“If you’re changing the language on my phone again, I’ll kick your ass. I had to take it to the phone shop the last time you were here because I was sick of seeing my settings in Swa-fucking-hili.”
“I’m not.” Panic knocked on Buffy’s brain.
“So what are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Panic followed closely by uber babble mode. “Your phone beeped while you were gone so I picked it up and was about to check who it was, but then you arrived and obviously there was no need, so I was going to give it to you to check and then you asked me who it was and because I hadn’t checked it, that left me out of the loop and totally useless when it came to checking your sex messages…text sextages…I’m going to the bathroom.” Buffy hauled herself out of the chair and re-traced Faith’s earlier journey, leaving the other woman in a state of high amusement as she turned her attention to the message on her mobile. The number was not registered in her phonebook. This did not bother her until she viewed the message:
‘I WANT TO TOUCH YOUR HAIR. I WANT TO TASTE YOUR MOUTH. I WANT TO MAKE YOU MINE. I WANT YOU TO LOOK AT ME THE WAY YOU USED TO AND DO TO ME WHAT YOU WANTED’
Faith giggled and out of habit, shielded the screen with her hand as she wrote a reply. She was used to this from Terry. He got a kick out of making her squirm in public, hoping that every time he used someone else’s phone to send it, she was in the company of extremely conservative people. She was just about finished typing a reply when something inside her head connected and she cleared the message before back-tracking into her ‘inbox’. Once there, she confirmed the link that had popped into her mind. The earlier message from Buffy, and the one had received a few minutes ago, originated from the same number. It was Faith’s turn to panic. Thoughts zipped through her head at high-speed as she tried to figure out whether it was a joke on the newly-brunette’s behalf, or an honest-to-god declaration. Faith knew she didn’t have much time to think about this. She could detect the other Slayer making her way back to the table. Her thumb flew over the keys and she hit the ‘send’ button as Buffy walked outside. Faith could see that the brunette was nervous, and she only hoped that she had interpreted the situation correctly. Buffy sat down, and as she did, her phone beeped. A flash of panic passed over her eyes, and if she hadn’t been examining her so closely, Faith would have failed to notice.
“Message.”
“I know.”
“Aren’t you going to check it?”
“Yes.” Silence.
“Are you going to check it anytime within the next millennium?”
“Yes.” Silence.
“And you say *I’ve* lost it? Give me that.” Faith reached for the phone but it was snatched away quickly. “What? Is it a dirty message? Who do you have holed up in your hotel room B?” Buffy blushed and turned her head away, clicking on the ‘read’ option and trying not to have another coronary when she saw Faith’s name. Taking a deep breath, she pressed down lightly and the message appeared on her screen:
‘TOUCH MY HAIR. TASTE MY MOUTH. MAKE ME YOURS. I’LL DO WHAT YOU WANT – BUT YOU HAVE TO ASK NICELY’
Buffy cleared the screen and set her phone down. Faith appeared oblivious to the fact that she had sent the previous message and Buffy relaxed, crossing her legs and enjoying the warm winter sunshine. “Anything interesting?” Faith rested her head on her hands and gazed at Buffy.
“I guess you could say that.” Faith nodded, stubbing out the remainder of her cigarette, which was mainly ash and signalling the waiter for the cheque.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day? In fact, how long are you here for?”
“Nothing and a week.”
“You keen to do a little sight-seeing with me?” The waiter placed a saucer on the table, bearing their respective bills, and Faith threw down a few dollars, motioning Buffy away as she reached for her purse.
“Thanks. Sight-seeing? You *live* here Faith. Haven’t you *seen* all the sights?”
“Nope. I only do the tourist thing when I’m with out-of-towners.” They arose from the table and Faith waved to the waiter. “See ya Marco!”
“Later Fay. Hey, you coming to our gig tonight?”
“Maybe. I’ll see if I can get off work early.”
“Cool. Ciao babe!”
“Ciao!” Faith grabbed her cigarettes and Buffy picked up the lighter. Together, they walked the five blocks to Faith’s apartment. Standing outside the building, the Slayers discussed their plans for later that evening.
“What do you want to do B?”
“I’m thinking dinner at some ostentatious restaurant followed by some furious bootay-shaking afterwards. You want to join me?”
“I can’t do dinner. I have to be in early to help set up, but I might get off early. Then we can check out that new club on Grant Avenue.”
“What about that guy?”
“Marco.”
“What about him?”
“He said he had a gig tonight. Why don’t we go there?”
“You want to go see Marco’s band?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Ok. But you have to ask nicely.”
“I did ask….” Buffy lost the ability to speak. Those six words began attacking her brain at once and she knew, as she lifted her eyes to meet Faith’s, that she was well and truly busted. Seeing the realisation as it appeared on Buffy’s face, Faith smiled and stepped forward, bringing herself right into Buffy’s personal space. Faith took Buffy’s hand in her own and brought it up to where her hair collected in tendrils next to her ears.
“Touch my hair.” Buffy complied, utterly lost, yet still maintaining some semblance of sanity. “Taste my mouth.” Buffy closed her eyes and her lips met Faith’s, pressing against them softly before letting her tongue free to explore. After a good few minutes, Faith pulled away and grinned voraciously. “I’m very interested to see how you intend to make me yours.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’ve always had me.” Buffy smiled and nodded slowly.
“Nevertheless, I’m very eager to try.”
“I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.” Faith pulled Buffy up the stairs to the building’s entrance. “Oh, and before I forget, I’m sorry.” Buffy’s face was a measure of confusion.
“For what?”
“For making you start smoking again.”
“I haven’t started smoking again.” Faith grinned and leaned in to run her tongue along Buffy’s ear before whispering:
“Wait ‘til after I’m through with you. You’ll need a carton.”