Ski Trip

The red numbers glowed 7:43 AM and someone was in bed with Faith.

She stiffened for the two seconds it took to wake up fully and remember who that someone was; it took three more seconds to realise what that someone was doing--spooning her, soft bursts of air tickling her earlobe, one hand draped carelessly over her stomach and resting just below her breasts. Faith jerked forward in surprise, and the someone followed, snuggling closely behind her.

Buffy was not going to be a happy camper if she woke up like this. She probably wouldn't stop blushing for a week. And Faith wasn't going to be on her favourite-people list for a lot longer than that.

But this was not Faith's fault. They were on her side of the bed. In fact, a few inches further and they'd be on the floor next to her side of the bed. And there was no way to escape. And she was beginning to enjoy herself entirely too much.

If she moved, Buffy might wake up and know that she knew. If she didn't move, Buffy might wake up and know, but she wouldn't know that Faith knew. If she went back to sleep and Buffy woke up and moved, she might wake Faith...and then Buffy would know that she knew and that Faith knew that she knew Faith knew. If she stayed here all night and didn't move, the only thing she knew was that she'd go crazy thinking about it.

Thinking about how easy it'd be to hold Buffy's hand over her stomach and brush phantom patterns on her arm with her fingertips.

Thinking about how Buffy's breathing moved her chest back and forth, now touching Faith's back, now sliding away.

Thinking about how if she shifted ever-so-slightly they'd be completely pressed together, shoulder to toe, her hips cradled by Buffy's, their legs linked together.

They were bad thoughts. They were wonderful thoughts. They were--oh my god is Buffy waking up? thoughts.

"Sorry." Buffy's warm breath near her ear didn't sound sorry at all, and she let go entirely too slowly, and it did nothing to dull the ache between Faith's legs. She squeezed her thighs together, let her hand creap under the elastic of the pyjama bottoms and pressed, hard. If she could just ease the early-morning hornies until she could get to the bathroom, anywhere...shit. Shit. Bad move. She came, quick and hot, biting back her gasp and twitching away from Buffy. She scrambled out of bed to mask her movement, Buffy half sitting up behind her as though to follow.

"I'm--I'm gonna catch a shower," she said, hating the stutter in her voice.

"But it's early...vacation. Sleeping in is what we do."

Fuck it, fuck this, fuck all the goddamn self-control. Fuck B and her bedroom eyes, all half-sleepy and tousle-haired but so...so...fuck. "Yeah, well, cleanliness is next to--something good. So I hear. I'll be back."

Faith bolted for the washroom and wrenched open the hot water tap in the shower until steam clouded the room. Mist slowly faded her reflection from the mirror--face red, hair a wavy mess, eyes dark and wide, breath still catching in her throat. She nearly scalded herself climbing in.

Leaning against the tiles, she ran her hands down her body, s tig tight with unreleased tension. Wash it all away. God. Fucking...oh God. Hand between her legs now, fingers moving inside, still slick and wanting and the shower was hot, so hot.

Fuck you, B...fuck...you...

She tried to draw it out, but it was over too fast, again, a brief spurt of empty pleasure. Her knees trembled and she let her head hang, let her the water plaster her hair to her face. Let her breath quicken, not lust this time but tears. She swiped them back, her throat constricting. At last, she lifted her face to the jet, eyes closed, and started to wash.

When she returned to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, Buffy was laying on top of the covers, legs spread, her top riding up to expose the pale smoothness of her stomach. She'd fallen back asleep, or at least her eyes were closed, her chest moving with deep, even breaths. The room smelled like sex. Faith turned her back, dropped her pyjamas in a heap and grabbed her suitcase. She hauled out long johns and sweats and pulled them on without losing the towel. She yanked her hair back into a loose ponytail. When she finished, Buffy had rolled over and was watching her drowsily, eyes half-closed.

"Bet Mom'll make us pancakes," she said. "Hungry?"

"Whatever. I'm gonna watch TV."

She threw herself onto the couch in the living room, flipping through channels until she found an old rerun of Spiderman, and then stared blankly out the window. It was snowing again, huge sticky flakes, and with a sort of dull surprise Faith remembered they were here to ski. How excited she'd been that they were going together...that B was going to teach her. All she could think now was that she couldn't wait to get back to Sunnydale, back to ignoring B and the Scoobies as much as she could. Back to forgetting everything she felt. It'd be easier, for everyone. All she had to do was survive the rest of this 'vacation' without saying anything. Yeah.

Two more nights...

*

"This..." Buffy paused dramatically and waved a ski pole at the panorama in front of them, "...is a ski hill."

"Yeah, I got that much, thanks." Faith shifted her weight from one ski to the other, adjusting to the fit and weight of her rented ski boots. She'd made it up the lift in one piece, had managed not to embarass herself, yet. But she was convinced it wouldn't be long before she was rolling down the hill like a cartoon snowball with the arms and legs sticking out, and all the wavy motion-lines around it.

And B standing at the top of the hill laughing.

Faith scowled, knowing Buffy couldn't see it beneath her neckwarmer and goggles. After this morning, the magic had gone out of the so-called vacation.

"Faith?"

"What?" she snapped.

"I said, let's take that green circle run. It's the easiest."

"Fine." She shoved off, skating on her skis like she'd been shown by some cheap fuck from that long-ago Massachusetts ski hill. She knew she was acting the bitch, but she'd never modified her moods for anyone else's benefit in the past, and wasn't about to start. Buffy, however, was ignoring her outburst, following along easily behind her until they reached the top of the slope.

Faith looked out across the valley at the mountains opposite. "You first."

"I'm supposed to be teaching you." Buffy sounded hurt. Jeez, it was hardly her fault that Faith couldn't handle all this good-buddy stuff. They were supposed to being ing fun. And she was messing it up. As usual.

Faith softened a bit. "Yeah, so I'll learn by watching. Go on."

Buffy gave her a brief look, head tilted, like maybe she was gonna ask some shrink-question--or sign them both up to be on a Very Special Oprah. But she probably knew Faith wasn't going to talk, so she dug in her poles and headed down the run.

Damn, but she looked good. Ned Flanders in a ski suit had nothin' on B.

Yeah, this wasn't getting any easier. Faith gave a disgusted snort. Maybe she should just get with the skiing.

No sooner than she thought it than she saw Buffy wobble on a sharp turn and do a monster faceplant in the snow. And, just like that, all her grumpiness melted into a fit of giggles. She cautiously pushed off and skiied as quickly as she could to where Buffy was just sitting up.

Stopping beside her, Faith leaned forward on her poles and laughed. "Damn, B, if you're giving tips on what not to do, then you're the best teacher I've ever had."

Buffy pushed herself up and fished snow out of her collar. "There was ice."

"Right." Faith pushed her goggles up to her forehead, the better to show off her mocking grin.

"There was. And I haven't been skiing in three years." She twisted around, batting at the snow in her collar and missing.

Faith inched forward. "Here," she said. "You missed some."

"You're probably going to shove it down my jacket," Buffy grumbled, but she turned to allow Faith better access. Faith took off her mitten to brush the snow away. Buffy shivered, and Faith pressed her palm against the back of her neck, warming her. Buffy looked over her shoulder with a tentative smile. "Thanks."

Faith shoved her head away playfully. "Yeah, whatever," said.aid. "Clumsy." She grinned, tried to back away on her skis, overbalanced, and promptly fell on her butt beside Buffy.

"Oh-ho! Look who's talking!"

"I'm tangled in your skis."

"And tha my fault?"

"You fell first!"

They were both laughing. Other skiers were giving making wide turns around them, and still they sat in the snow. Buffy was smiling her light-up-the-room smile and Faith knew it was all for her. She was probably grinning like a dope herself. No way was she going to make the first move to get up--not even if she got frostbite in unmentionable places and they stayed here til spring. Christ, but she was fucking schizo around B. One minute ready to pack it all in, and the next--after just a look, or a smile--and she was back to being ass-over-teakettle in love.

Love?

Oh, shit.

*