Work Text:
It was probably a dick move, asking Ms. Calendar of all people. There was probably some kind of implication there, her coming to Ms. Calendar with a question like this as though Ms. Calendar was the one uniquely equipped to answer it. But if Buffy brought something like this to Giles, he’d give her data, volumes, prophecies, trying to solve the problem with what he knew instead of what he felt. Ms. Calendar didn’t do things like that. She solved problems all funny and roundabout.
But it did still feel shitty, looking at Ms. Calendar and thinking—maybe you know what it’s like to feel like stone. Ms. Calendar had softened over the years, but when they’d first met, she’d been as approachable and cuddly as a smooth, sharp, perfectly cut diamond. Gorgeous and sparkly, sure, but not the kind of thing you’d want a big bear hug from.
Buffy took a dish from the drying rack, patting it absently with the dish towel, and snuck a glance at Ms. Calendar, who was working at the stainless steel pan with the rough side of the sponge. “You’re gonna scratch it,” she said reflexively.
“Backseat scrubbers aren’t welcome in this kitchen,” said Ms. Calendar without looking up.
Buffy’s mouth twitched. So did Ms. Calendar’s. “Um, I actually kinda wanted to…to talk to you about something,” she said, turning her attention back to the dish in her hands. She wasn’t sure if she could look at Ms. Calendar when she said this.
“Oh?”
Buffy bit her lip. Then, finally, she said, “I just…I don’t know. With…with everything, it’s all been…” She trailed off, then tried again. “Sometimes I just feel like…like I can’t feel anything,” she said unsteadily. “After everything. At least not the way I’m supposed to. And—”
It was then that she felt an arm land quietly around her shoulders. The touch was tentative at first, but when Buffy didn’t pull away, Ms. Calendar gently pulled her in, until Buffy's cheek was settled up against Ms. Calendar’s sweater. “You feel that, though, right?” she said.
“…Yeah,” said Buffy, her voice wobbling in the middle.
Ms. Calendar squeezed her shoulders.
