Scenes From the Kitchen

title: Scenes from the Kitchen (1/?)
author: cheebs!
email: chbkamen@optonline.net
site: http://bite.to/bloodandfire
rating: R
chara: Faith/Buffy, Willow, Dawn, whoever else wanders through the kitchen :)
summary: Faith is living at the Summers' home, in the newly converted basement apartment. Not everyone is happy with the situation.
disclaimer: Idea is mine. Chara aren't.
note(s): post s7 until I get Jossed, and how likely is that? LOL
archive(s): Lists. Others, ask.
date: 12/5/02

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They were the bane of Buffy's exsistence, and had been since she'd taken on adult responsibilities. They frightened her more than any monster she'd ever faced, and caused more exasperation than Dawn, Spike, or even Faith...possibly more than all three put together! The last, as of late, had been eating them out of house and home and was in no small part responsible for her current distress.

The loathsome creatures in question?

Bills.

Buffy rested her elbows upon the breakfast bar and her weary head upon her hands, one of which still gripped a pen. She closed her hazel eyes for a moment, yet the numbers still swam behind her lids. With a groan, she thudded her forehead on her fists, trying desperately to force the figures to make sense, or at least vacate. Unsuccessful at either, she vowed to leave the expenses until later and decided to work on the mountain of dishes that needed washing.

"Buffy," Dawn whined as she entered the kitchen, "why does she have to stay here? She creeps me out." She crossed her arms and shuddered. "She stares at me like I'm something to eat."

"We've been over this," Buffy replied with a hint of annoyance. "I've told you my reasons."

"I know," Dawn huffed. "One minute you're all 'I want her where I can keep an eye on her;' the next, 'she has nowhere else to go.' It's like you can't make up your mind whether you like her or hate her!"

"Dawn, it's more complicated than that..."

"Oh, no...don't you dare start with that 'it's a Slayer thing' garbage again," Dawn said warningly. "Would you even be doing this if it wasn't for Angel?" she queried, drawing out the 'a' on the vampire's name.

Buffy sighed and turned, leaning back on the counter. "I won't lie to you. Angel's the only reason I let her in the house. But he's not why I insisted she stay."

"You really think she's changed?"

"I know she has." Buffy looked pleadingly into her sister's eyes. "Can you trust me, please? I won't let anyg hag happen to you - or anyone else."

Dawn pouted petulantly before relenting. "All right. But if she kills us all in our sleep, I told you so." She jogged out of the room and up the stairs, her steps thundering on the ceiling overhead.

Sighing heavily, feeling the burden of responsibility heavier on her shoulders than it had been in some time, Buffy turned back to the sink.

"She really hates me, huh?"

Buffy jumped, startled, and spun around, gripping the teaspoon she'd been washing as if it was a stake. Upon seeing Faith leaning calmly against the doorway, she relaxed her stance but not her grip.

Faith quirked her eyebrow. "Possessed or just plain evil?" she inquired amusedly.

"Huh?" Buffy looked down at the utensil which had bent in her white-knuckled panic. "Oh." She quickly hid both spoon and hand behind her back.

Faith smirked. "Guess you showed it who's boss, B."

"Did you want something besides to annoy me, Faith?" Buffy surruptitiously dropped the mangled spoon into the garbage pail beneath the sink, then turned back and began washing a glass.

With a shake of her head, Faith replied, "Just a drink." She took the glass from Buffy's hand, her arm brushing the blonde's breast as she leaned past to rinse the dishsoap away.

Buffy inhaled sharply, her breath hissing through her teeth. "Do you mind?"

Faith's lips drew back in a sensual grin. "Thought I'd save you the trouble," she said with a wink, crossing to the fridge.

Buffy crinkled her nose, disturbed by the other woman's behaviour. "It's no trouble, really." She turned to face Faith and just as quickly turned back, blushing furiously. "Would you put some clothes on?"

"What? I'm dressed." Puzzled, Faith looked herself over. She soon found what distressed Buffy: her white tank top had gotten wet and her dark nipple showed clearly through the damp fabric. She chuckled, her voice low and rich. "Oh, that. I didn't notice."

"Well, I did, and I'd appreciate you not flashing my little sister. Who, by the way, says you stare at her - what's with that?"

Faith shrugged. "She's just...I dunno, kinda glowy. Pretty. Not my type, though."

"I didn't think you had a type."

Finishing her drink, Faith swaggered back to the sink to leave the glass and pressed against Buffy's back. " 'Course I got a type - the worst person in the world for me to want," she voiced huskily as she reached around. "By the way, B, why did you notice, hm?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively and gazed squarely into Buffy's eyes, reflected in the window.

Feeling the length of the brunette's body against hers, Buffy closed her eyes and braced her hands firmly on the sink's edge, willing Faith to leave and take with her the tingling her proximity caused. Warm, calloused hands covered hers for a moment, then slipped away, along with the person to whom they were attached.

When Buffy opened her eyes, she was alone in the kitchen. She breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into a chair, resting her forehead on her hands.

TBC...