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Sometimes, Faith is painfully aware of how different she is from Buffy.
Now’s definitely one of those times as she heaves into the toilet, Buffy holding her hair back because of course she is. And the worst part is that Faith can’t even get mad because who the fuck actually holds someone’s hair back when they throw up? That might be the nicest thing someone’s done for her in a long time, and isn’t that pathetic.
She resurfaces after a while, and Buffy slowly lets go of her hair, helping her stagger to her feet. Faith wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, making a face at the vomit-y taste still sitting at the back of her throat.
“Here,” Buffy says, handing her a stick of gum that she apparently keeps in her pocket. Faith takes it appreciatively. “I don’t get why you keep doing this to yourself,” Buffy murmurs, probably not meaning for Faith to hear it.
But Faith does hear it, and now she’s growing more irritated. Because perfect Buffy Summers with her perfect little friends and perfect family and perfect Watcher would never get blackout drunk and throw up everywhere. No, she’s the one who holds her friend’s (are they friends?) hair back as they throw up, all while judging them for it.
Faith’s fully about to snap back at her, but then she nearly goes sprawling as she trips over a crack in the floor, and she promptly forgets.
She’s doing great.
“Okay, let’s get you home,” Buffy says, leaning so she’s carrying most of Faith’s weight. They stagger out of the bathroom and Buffy practically drags her out of the frat house.
“C’mon, B, it’s not that bad,” Faith whines, but Buffy ignores her. As they keep walking, Faith snaps, “I can fucking walk.”
Buffy raises an eyebrow, stopping in place. “Okay, then,” she says, and she lets go. Faith manages about three steps, and then she realizes that the dirt is an inch away from her face. Buffy’s caught her, and she hauls Faith back to her feet, settling her arm around Faith’s shoulders again. “How ‘bout we not?” Buffy asks, and Faith’s too distracted to answer.
Somehow, they make it all the way back to Faith’s motel room, and Buffy manages to open Faith’s door and deposit Faith on her bed (she’s not sure how exactly, but that’s a problem for another time). Faith falls back, splaying across the mattress as Buffy moves away to… do something. Faith’s not really paying attention, and she’s starting to fall asleep.
“Here,” Buffy says, propping Faith up on a pillow and wrapping her up in a blanket. She holds a glass of water to Faith’s lips, leaving it on the side table when Faith’s finished drinking.
“I love you,” Faith says, smiling up at Buffy, and Buffy’s eyes widen. “Have I ever told you that?” She pauses, tilting her head away before turning back to Buffy with an even wider smile. “I wanna kiss you. Y’know, you should kiss me.” Before she can get an answer, she’s fallen asleep.
Faith wakes up to the hangover to end all hangovers. Fair enough, she’d expected that.
She sits up with a groan, and Buffy appears out of nowhere, carrying a painkiller. “Take this,” she says, handing the pill to Faith with a glass of water.
“Thanks,” Faith says, and Buffy simply nods, sitting on the bed.
They sit in awkward silence for a while until Buffy breaks it. “Did you mean it?”
Faith pauses, trying to remember what the hell she’d said last night. “I… have no idea. What’d I say?” she asks sheepishly.
“You…” Buffy looks away, rubbing the back of her neck. “Never mind.”
Faith’s brow furrows. “Wait, what’d I say? How bad was it?” She didn’t do something dumb like tell Buffy she loved her or something, right? Because that would be bad. Really, really bad.
Buffy sighs. “You said you loved me. And you wanted me to kiss you.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Faith hastily says, “Well, I didn’t mean it mean it, y’know, I was really drunk and we would never work anyway, so… yeah.”
Buffy looks at her, and Faith isn’t sure how to read that expression. “Why wouldn’t we work?”
What the fuck is happening?
“I mean, we’re complete opposites,” Faith says, feeling her face turn red. “Y’know, I get drunk and fuck strangers and I’m loud and rude and impulsive and you’re… none of that.”
Buffy scoffs. “Think you’re selling yourself a bit short there.” Faith rolls her eyes. “Anyway, we’re both Slayers.”
“Okay, we have one thing in common,” Faith amends.
“I’m sure there’s something else,” Buffy says. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black, and why’s that the first thing that you think of?”
Buffy rolls her eyes. “Fine, then. D’you run hot or cold?”
Faith laughs, immediately wincing at the noise. “B, what are these questions?” Buffy glares at her. “Hot.”
“Cats or dogs?”
“Cats, easy,” Faith says, leaning back against the headboard.
Buffy sighs. “...okay, maybe just one actual thing, but we get along fine, right? And opposites attract and everything.”
And now Faith’s starting to catch on, frowning. “Why’re you pushing this so hard?”
Buffy looks down again, and Faith can see a blush spreading across her cheeks. “I just…” she trails off, and this time, Faith’s eyes widen.
“Buffy?” she asks, moving closer, and Buffy looks up at her. “Kiss me.”
And she does. Faith would never have guessed that she’d be kissing Buffy Summers on her bed this morning, and yet here she is, and the realization makes her almost feel drunk again.
“Opposites attract, huh,” Faith says as they pull apart. “Maybe I can get you on that party life.”
Buffy laughs. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” Her eyes take on a mischievous glint as she adds, “I could maybe come around on the cat, though.”
Faith laughs too. “We can compromise.”
Buffy leans forward, smiling brightly. “By the way, I love you too,” she says, and then she kisses Faith again.
Compromise. Faith likes the sound of that.