Ski Trip

Love.

That changed everything.

For the rest of the day, on the ski lifts, on the runs, in the lodge eating lunch, it was all Faith could think about. Before she'd just been thinking that B was a hottie--that much she'd known since she got to Sunnydale--and that it'd do them both a world of good if they could get down and dirty. Sometimes, maybe, she tho abo about a date, like, a date date with dinner and a movie and beating demons to a bloody pto tto top the evening off, all romantic and shit. The closest they'd come to that was Homecoming, and that wasn't very close at all, what with B out saving the world again. But screwing was screwing and dating was dating and love was--different.

Love was scary, when you got right down to it. Especially when the girl you fell for had no fucking clue.

When the lifts shut off for the day she was exhausted. All her muscles felt like cooked spaghetti. It was better than a full night's slaying, dancing until dawn, and three rounds in the sack with whoever she'd managed to pick up. It was a peaceful kind of tired, like she was happy and for once she didn't have to fight for it.

Plus, B was still giving out those sappy smiles. Jeez, but she was getting mushy. And enjoying it, for frick's sake.

They were bickering easily by the time they reached the lodge at the end of the day. Joyce came out to meet them, a tall man trailing behind her.

"Girls, I'd like you to meet Mark Hewitt," she said. "We met on the ski lift and got to talking, and he's invited us to his New Year's Eve party tomorrow."

Faith gave the guy a half-hearted smile. He seemed nice enough, in an older, stuffy way, kind of like Giles but not so studly. Mrs. S. was pretty pleased with him, though, she could tell. But hell if Faith was going to go to his New Year's party. It'd probably be full of old people sitting around falling asleep before the ball dropped, listening to classical music and enjoying good conversation.

Buffy gave her an agonized look that said exactly what she was thinking: Boring.

"Uh, that's great, Mom. And, thanks, Mr. Hewitt. But, Faith and me--" Buffy squirmed like a bug on a hook under her mom's stare. "We were going to--uh--do something. With the plans, and all the planning we did. By ourselves. You know. Plans. Can't change them, 'cause then you wouldn't call them plans, would you--"

Faith kicked Buffy's shin to shut her up and smiled sweetly when Buffy stuck out her tongue.

The two adults exchanged glances. Mr. Hewitt grinned. "That's too bad; my son will be disappointed."

"Your son?" Buffy asked weakly.

"Yes. He's just over there--Craig!" Mr. Hewitt waved, and they all turned around.

Faith took him in with one glance: tall, dark, handsome, and constructed mainly from cardboard. Buffy's eyebrows shot up, impressed. Damn it. Her eyebrows were not supposed to be impressed. Neither, for that matter, was the rest of her. She half-listened to them exchanging hellos, then grabbed Buffy by the upper arm and started pulling with Slayer strength.

"Um, excuse us, so sorry, be right back," Buffy called over her shoulder as Faith dragged her away. "What?" she asked when they were across the room.

"Are we really goin' to this party?" Faith looked back at Craig over Buffy's shoulder. He was watching them. She narrowed her eyes at him until he turned away.

"I don't know. We were invited, like, five minutes ago." Buffy yanked her arm back to herself. "What's the problem? You like parties."

"Yeah, but with your mom there? I'd rather stay in with a bottle of Jack's. And at least the music would be better."

Buffy twisted and stared at her mom, still deep in conversation with Mark Hewitt. "Do you think she likes him?"

"What?"

"Mom and this guy. Do you think she's looking for, you know, a stand-in kisser?"

Faith shook her head, lost. "A stand-in kisser?"

"For New Year's. For midnight. You know, someone you get to know just enough so that you're not pathetic and alone when everyone around you has someone to kiss."

"I don't know." Faith folded her arms. Of course that was the sort of thing Buffy thought needed planning. Well, who did she expect to step up when the time came, unless it was Meathead over there, doing the polite thing with Joyce and Mark? Or did Buffy figure that they were supposed to be pathetic together? Joyce was touching Mark's arm and smiling. Yeah, she probably wanted to jump his bones, but if she told B that, she'd wig. "Why, is that what you're looking for? A stand-in?"

"Maybe it's a date." Buffy frowned. "Maybe they'll find out they have so much in common, and oh, look, he's from Sunnydale too, and then before you know it he's reading my journal and making spinach cookies for all the minigolfing picnics we go on."

"B, you're not makin' sense." Faith shifted. "Listen, we'll go, okay? Then you can watch 'em the whole time. Fuck if I care." She was about to stalk off when Buffy put her hand on her arm, eyes wide.

"Faith, wait!"

"Yeah, what?"

Buffy turned her concerned look on. "What if she wants to bring him back to the chalet?"

Disgusted, she shook free. "Then they can knock boots all night long. Face it, B. No matter what you say, everybody gets horny now and then."

"That's not what I meant!" Buffy chased after her. "I mean, ew, that is what I meant, because--yuck! She's my mother, and--I mean--" She stopped, and Faith twisted on her heel to look at her.

"Yeah, so what did you mean? 'Cause I got the feeling we're not even having the same conversation."

"Just--" Buffy took a step forward. "I don't know. I wanted--I mean, this was supposed to be our weekend. Right?"

Faith studied her boots. This was probably about the Post bitch. The part where Buffy says, 'I think we need to talk'. Fuck that. Aloud, she said, "I guess."

"So. Good, then." Buffy was nodding way too much. Finally she seemed to get control of it and smiled up at Faith. "Uh. So do you wanna try out the hot tub tonight?"

*

Buffy stepped with exaggerated care through the French doors, staring intently at the two huge mugs of hot chocolate she was balancing. "Here," she said. "I made it just the way you like it."

Faith took her cup and took a sip and nearly choked. "Tastes like you used more Bailey's than actual hot chocolate," she said.

"Nah, it's about even," Buffy said with an assuring wave, nearly slopping her half-full drink over her hand. "Whee. Look at my hand be all wavy."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me, you made yours just the way I like it, too."

"Yeah. I think I like you." Buffy turned scarlet and continued to peer into the steam rising from her mug. "I mean. I like hot chocolate. I like it your way."

Faith hid her smile by taking a drink. "Damn, B, how much have you had already?"

"Just a few tests. Had to make sure I got it right." Buffy grinned. "All right. I am plan girl. Here it is: You. Me. Hot tub." She nodded along to her thoughts for a moment. "Yes. That's right. The three of us."

"You're probably going to fall in and drown."

"Aww, c'mon, Faith." Buffy turned the full force of pout and puppy-dog eyes on her. "I wanna show off my swimsuit." With a fake whisper, she added, "I got it on sale."

Faith felt her pulse leap in her wrists at the thought. "Okay, you've convinced me. I'll play lifeguard."

"Ha! So there. I win." Buffy started nodding to herself again, and took another big swallow of her Bailey's-laced drink. "Yummy. This is fun. Are you having fun?"

"Oh, tons. B?"

"What?"

"I think you've gotta go in again if you want to change."

"You too." Buffy stared at her solemnly. "You're coming too."

Don't I wish.

*

She changed quickly, smirking at the girl in the mirror who couldn't quite manage the usual tough-as-nails look while practically falling out of her top. "Sexy," she said, shaking her head. Who'd'a thought that B had such good taste? And what the hell was she doing buying a bathing suit for Faith, anyway?

In fact, she was feeling pretty what the hell? on a lot of counts. What the hell was she still doing here, what the hell was Buffy doing getting drunk, what the hell was going on? And so what the hell if she was about to get a fashion show that would have Angel half-souless just to think about?

But the Bailey's and the two shots from the bottle of JD's she'd packed for herself were making her brave, or stupid, or something.

So then why are you hiding in the bathroom?

Faith eyed the door. "What the hell," she muttered, and headed out to the tub. Not before taking another pull at her bottle, though.

The air outside was freezing, and Faith eased herself into the water, sitting where a jet would do the most good to her lower back. The contrast between the winter night and the steaming pool made her shiver. She tried to relax, wondering what was taking Buffy so long and if she was too drunk to get into her suit and whether maybe Faith should try to help her or if that would be a couple of lightyears beyond the "just friends" line.

Then Buffy was standing in the doorway and Faith wasn't thinking much of anything beyond God damn, girl. She
sucked in a breath and tried not to be too obvious about where her eyes were going, up the slender legs to the patch of royal blue, then to the dip of waist, her bellybutton, up to the swell of her breasts under even less blue, if that was possible. And then down again, as Buffy turned around to steto tto the hot tub.

"Whoa, B. Hot stuff."

Buffy preened for a moment, then sighed and sank lower in the water. She looked sideways at Faith, a silly grin on her face. "You too." She squirmed for a moment, then reached behind her and pulled out a duck-shaped sponge. "Look, I found a duck." She made it do a little dance over the water.

"I don't think you wanna touch that." Faith backed up, anticipating Buffy's reaction. "It's the thing they use for cleaning the tub."

“Eeeeeew!” Buffy squealed and flung the sponge away. She lunged across the hot tub, sending half the water flooding over Faith and on to the deck. “Ew ew ew ew EW.”

Abandoning all ideas of personal space, Buffy was practically sitting in Faith’s lap, cringing as far as she could from the object of her disgust. Faith didn’t know whether to fend her off or bring her closer. She settled for just sitting as still as she could and leering at B’s ass, as it was enjoying a certain proximity to her nose at the moment.

But Buffy didn’t stay there for long. “Get it out, Faith!”

“Me?” she asked indignantly. “I’m not the one who dumped it in the water.”

"Well, I’m not touching it."

They both stared at the offending sponge for a few seconds in silence, Buffy clutching Faith’s arm as though she could protect her from whatever was currently fouling the water.

"If you do, I'll...I'll cook you something."

Faith glanced down at Buffy's iron grip on her arm. The feel of her near-nakedness managed to somehow be even hotter than the water, and that just wasn't fair. "You? Cook?" she asked, but she could feel a grin starting to form. Buffy was glaring with utter loathing across the pool, where the sponge was floating around in the currents created by the jets. Each time the whirlpool threatened to send it across the invisible halfway line, Buffy squirmed just a little bit closer.

"Next time we go Bronzing, it'll be my treat," was her next offer.

Faith snorted. "Next time's your turn anyway. Remember? You bet me I couldn't knock the head off that tall vamp with one kick 'cause my pants were so tight, and I said, 'Oh yeah?' and you said, 'Yeah,' and then I--"

"Okay, okay." Buffy splashed a bit at the bobbing sponge. "It's getting closer. Ugh."

"You could get out if you're so worried."

"No--I'll, I'll give you ak ruk rub."

Faith sat up straighter. "That thing's probably full of bacteria. Or brain parasites." She paused, then: "Just my back?"

"Uh--maybe more than your back."

"Dead skin--soap scum--fungus--Ebola, for all we know."

"Fine, yes, all of you, full body massage. Just get it out."

Faith didn't hesitate. With a splash she stood up and pinched the slimy thing with one finger and thumb and tossed it over the railing to the snow below. "Guess this makes me your hero, huh?" She dropped back into her seat and pointed grandly at the other side. "There. It's as clean as it's gonna get."

Buffy didn't move.

"Uh, B? You wanna shove over? You're hogging the jet."

"I like this jet better," Buffy said, and tipped her head back, grinning slyly. "You want it, you're gonna have to share...hero."

Faith shook her head and settled into her seat. If she didn't know better...but she did know better. Maybe it just wasn't worth thinking about. Besides, with Buffy's eyes closed, it was just tasy asy to sneak peeks down the front of her bikini. She could ignore how close Buffy's hand was floating next to her thigh. She wasn't drunk--not like Buffy--but the tired and the heat and the Bailey's were all coming together to make the world spin nicely just out of reach.

Right about now, she could handle anything.

"Turn sideways."

Except maybe B's hands on her shoulders, pushing against the spaghetti straps of her top.

"What?"

"I said turn." Buffy gra her her shoulders tighter and pulled her into the position she wanted, floating nearly between Buffy's legs.

"Why?"

"Because I'm massaging you. I said I would."

"But--now?"

Buffy manhandled her with drunken insistence. "Yes. Stay."

And she stayed. What the hell? was sounding suspiciously like oh my God yes! but who was she to argue? "You sure--ahh!"

"Good?"

"Ah--yeah--um--" Faith frowned a bit, half concentrating on the way Buffy's hands were sinking deep into her muscles, neck and shoulder, just so and destroying the knots--and half wondering when she'd lost herself so much, lost her control. When had anybody ever put her at a loss for words? Why couldn't she say what she needed to, to keep herself at a distance? Instead, there was only this deep hot pleasure at the endless strength in Buffy's arms, and she was melting.

"Want me to go lower?"

There was something in Buffy's voice, too, some husky echo of her bright flirtyness that somehow meant something, but all Faith could say was "Mmm-hmm," and then "Right there."

If the world had been spinning before, it was dancing now, far away and unimportant. Then the magic hands were gone and Buffy was saying, "I'll finish inside. I'm boiled."

Faith heaved herself out of the pool. Her skin was throbbing, her hands and feet pruned, and the falling snow feathered a shivery coolness on her shoulders. She followed Buffy inside and lay facedown on the bed, not even bothering to dry off. Buffy sat on her thighs and continued the massage, her fingers digging in as only a Slayer's could, and as only a Slayer could stand. Blood pounded through every inch of her and Faith felt her mind slipping away, leaking out with the leftover heat of the pool. Before she fell asleep, the last thing she felt was Buffy's hands moving downwards.

*