I Love How I Hate You

Here's the actual story...

Title:
I Love How I Hate You

Rating: R for language

Pairing: none really

Disclaimer: Don’t sue me, I have no money

Spoilers: none

Feedback: A little goes a long way to boost my ego

Summary: This is totally AU,
there are no slayers, no demons, no vampires, etc. Faith and Buffy are friends,
just high school kids having a little fun during the summer

Author’s
note:  So this is kinda the sequel to my first class=SpellE>fic “The Clearing.”  Since
the girl that I actually pranked
in that story never really got me back I’m just stringing together some
anecdotes that we had during the summer, but I’ve decided that Buffy should
have some form of revenge

A/N2: 
Just so you know, in case any of you get confused, Joyce in my story doesn’t
necessarily look like Joyce (Kristine Sutherland) from class=spelle>BtVS.  In my story Joyce looks like an older
version of Buffy and a little taller, so naturally she will still be pretty
hot.  Okay, on with the show…

Faith
POV

“When
are you going to notice I’m not talking to you?”

I
tilt my head to side a little and pretend to think about it, “Gee, I class=SpellE>dunno, maybe when you stop
talking to me.”  I shake my head silently, chicks.

“Well,
I’m not talking to you.”

“’Kay,
whatever you say, B,” I say cheerfully and smile.  There’s silence for a
few seconds.

“I
hate you.”

“Mm-hmm,”
I know I’m totally pissing her off, I love this.  She’s pouting, which I
think is really cute.  She’s so easy to piss off too, but she has the
attention span of a gnat, so she almost always forgives me by the time we get
to where we’re going.

Buffy
POV

Ugh,
dammit, Faith is so
evil!  I can't believe she was actually capable of being so
conniving.  What a bitch!  I should've known something was up when
she wore that canary-getting’ grin all the way back from the movie theatre.
 I swore I'd never talk to her again after that little “prank” she pulled
last week, but here I am.  I'm sitting in her car and we're going to the
pool hall.  Shit, I hate not having a car.

“class=SpellE>Dammit, Faith, you’re such a
bitch!” I snap.  I'm still pretty angry about the incident.

“class=SpellE>Y'know, you called me... If
you're still angry, why'd you ask me to take you out tonight?” She's mocking
me, I know she is.

“You
know why,” I say, trying not to let my anger get the best of me.

“If
I knew, would I be asking?” she replies flatly.  Great, now she's playing
dumb.  She's staring at me with her eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer,
so I relent.  “I was bored to tears, okay?  There's nothing to do, I
can’t drive and my mom's too cheap to shell out for cable.”  She pauses
for a moment and I can almost hear the gears turning in her head.

“You're
mom is hot.”

class=GramE>“What?!?”

“You
heard me, your mom's a total
MILF.”

“class=SpellE>Eww, gross,” I am seriously
disgusted.  Then she has the audacity to stick her tongue out at me,
wiggling it back and forth – very suggestively.  Icky!  class=GramE>“Faith!  Stop it!  She's
my mom!”

“God,
B, you’re so easy,” she laughs.  I smack her on the arm, hard. 
“Not while I’m driving, B, you know better.”

I
just roll my eyes, “Whatever.”

Faith
POV

class=GramE>Fuck, that was way too easy. 
I know she hates it when I talk about her mom, but usually she puts up with it
till I start getting explicit – really explicit.  I mean, her mom
is really hot too, I know that’s kinda gross, but
she’s still looks pretty young for her age.  Joyce is one of those older
women you can totally tell was a hottie
in her day.  Actually, from her early pictures, she looked a lot like
Buffy.  To top it off, she was in Playboy when she was in her
twenties.  Playboy!  How fucking awesome is that?  I know this
because B showed me the issue she was in, Joyce may not have been playmate of
the month or anything, but she definitely had it class=spelle>goin’ on!  Why B ever even mentioned something
like that to me I’ll never know.  She should’ve known that I would never, ever,
let something like that just drop.

I
reach over and gently tip her chin up with my index class=grame>finger, she tries to bite me – which I pretty much
expected.  That’s my B, the little biter.  She’s like a class=SpellE>freakin’ puppy sometimes, I
swear.  Except, I’m pretty sure she bites harder, she’s especially frisky
when she’s been drinking. 

Fuck,
this one time, we at a party and I’m sittin’
on the porch smokin’ a
cigarette.  I’m not being mean to her or anything, just minding my own and
talking to Xander.  She comes over, stands between my legs and looks up at
me expectantly, I figure she
just wanted a drag off my cigarette.  So she takes my smoke, takes a drag,
blows it out, then without warning she
just fuckin’ clamps down on my thigh.  class=GramE>Really.  class=GramE>Fucking.  class=grame>Hard.  She bit me for no damn reason at
all!  She leaves this big purple bruise just above my knee – which looks
like I got hit with a bat or somethin’
– and gets mad at me because I smacked her on the head to get her to let
go.  Yeah, we’re fucked up, I know.  But I love her… or hate her, class=GramE>depends on what day of the week it
is.

“I
hate you,” she states coldly, venom dripping from her tone.

“You
love me,” I counter with my usual cocky charm.

She
looks out the window, sighs and quietly replies, “I know.”  But before I
get to say anything else, we arrive at the pool hall.