Disclaimer: I don't own these two. Nor do I want to. Joss and the Mutants do.
Title: Twisted Reality
Rating: *shrugs* 15? Some crass language but nothing else.
Pairing: F/B - fantasy
Summary: In Faith's head.
Season: Before Faith went bad. I stopped watching at 4, so no spoilers.
Thanks: No-one helped me therefore no-one gets it. It's not beta'd - obviously.
Author: Published under pen name, ellendasters@yahoo.co.uk

Twisted Reality

Twist : verb 1. Change the form of by rotating. 2. Alter, falsify, misquote.

Reality : noun 1. What is real or existent or underlies appearances. 2. Likeness to original.

I slide down in my seat. Watching B's perky ass. It's packaged neatly into a
pair of pants. They're so tight I bet she can't even squeeze a dollar bill into the
pockets.

I thought libraries were no fun. Shame on me.

My head tilts as she bends down to pick up a book. My eyebrows raise as it tumbles back out of her fingers--ditzty. She has to bend down again. In those. Tight. Pants.

I suck some air in through my teeth. She turns at the noise. My eyes dart back to the book in front of me, on--quantum mechanics, black holes and… other stuff that should be consigned to Star Trek. I try and look interested.

Two hands plant down on the desk. In my field of vision. I lift that same field up as she shifts her chest down--and by chest I mean chest.

"Planning to slay the vamps with a temporal rift, Faith?"

Voice as soft as the breasts my eyes keep staring at. I mean, I imagine they're soft. You see that's where this problem lies.

Oh, hold up. Let me deal with this first. She asked a question. Be rude not to answer.

"Always trying to keep one step ahead."

I give the usual. Award winning smile. Arch of eyebrow. Tilt of head. Hand flicking book, being nonchalant.

Her tanned finger taps at my boot on the table.

"Faith."

My tongue flicks out, licking my lips.

"B?"

"Feet."

"And I thought hanging out in a library was a waste of time. But it really worked out for you. You learned to name a part of the body. Good going."

Her eyes narrow. Sexy eyebrows make the point that I'm being bad again.

While I'm ahead…

I flick a button open on my shirt. My breasts had to be shoe-horned in anyway. They're looking for any excuse to get out of this fabric.

"Want me to test you? I'll show you two more parts of my body. You have to tell me what they're called. Yeah? It's a hands on test. Feel free to give them a squeeze."

She snorts a disapproving laugh and goes back to… walking in those pants. It's a feat. And one I'm encouraging. Painted on clothing is recommended.

Back to the problem. It's a matter of realties, see. Basically that mine doesn't match the one everyone else--including her--lives in.

In my reality I can do anything. I can say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I can slide a blatant move on and it all works out.

Faux pas aren't a issue. Taken liberties have their cares massaged away. The grass is greener everywhere. And the bed I made is a happy place. Full of sex, her sweaty body and most importantly me.

But, like I said before. It's an matter of realities. In that, the above isn't real. Well, it is to me but not to anyone else.

"Did you sharpen the stakes?"

Excuse me for a sec.

Remove eyes from Slayer's tight pants. Look at ceiling, thoughtfully. Then to the side. Furrow eyebrows. Nod.

"Yeah, did it yesterday. Relax. You're making me nervy…"

Forgot one thing: trademark flirting. Just let me get this out of the way. I don't like to disappoint.

"… although if you need some relaxing, I could be free tonight."

Insert grin. Ignore daggers sent over by the truckload.

"I would, but then there'd be no-one to save the world."

"We'll rain check then."

So, were was I? Yeah. Staring at B squeezed into those pants but having a conversation about realities.

It's a complicated thing. Remembering which one to be in, I mean.

Think about it.

I spend all day:
• Licking up those thighs.
• Staring into her eyes while I'm playing with her hard nipples.
• Kissing different parts of her.
• Or putting lots of parts of me into the same part of her.
When we're slaying, I'm thinking about laying. When we're killing, I'm peeling her
out of--delete as necessary--top, pants, underwear, everything.

You see my problem?

"Ok, let's go and survey."

Can't a girl talk? Stay there. Don’t move.

"Survey? Survey what? Hanging out with Giles is rubbin' off on you and it's not pretty. Now, if you really have an urge to be rubbin' off…"

I leave it unsaid. I don't have to finish my sentences now. She knows what I mean.

My offer to rub is ignored. As always. No biggie. I'll rub all I want later on. And not just her. See, in my reality I can rub it all. Also, I can rub any part of her on any part of me. My fantasy world's better than the Vegas Hilton's "All You Can Eat" buffet breakfast.

Her hands rest on the table again. I get a completely unobstructed view of her cleavage, and white--virginal--bra. The virginal part is only relevant here. In my fantasies I've covered all her bases--plenty times over.

One thing I like about this reality--she makes me laugh with the general ditziness.

"No, thank you, Faith. I'm talking about the English language? To survey: I survey. He, she surveys. They survey. We… um--surveil? They… surveit? Am I going wrong here? Is something meant to change?"

"Your medication, maybe?"

She rolls her eyes. In my reality she rolls them, too. Not at the same motivation, true. Still, I'll take what I can get.

"Anyway. Surveying… watching, checking vamps out, then killing."

"That time already, huh?"

I get up. Moving my legs. Trying to get all the blood back into places it should be--I twist my pants--from places it shouldn't.

"It's always that time. Come on. Let's go, girlfriend… urgh, now you're rubbing off on me!"

I grin. Because in my reality I just was. I hope it was as good for her as it was for me.

"That intro's too easy. I'm leaving it. I have a reputation to keep..."

She likes finishign my sentences.

"Low. I noticed."

We walk side by side. Her in one place. And me, firmly, in another.

Yet this Slayer?

Is happy with her twisted reality.