Learning Curve
by rebelrsr
Chapter Fourteen
[reviews]
Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and lots of people in expensive suits. I'm not making any money here, just trying to create a happier Buffyverse for my favorite characters.
Spoilers, etc.: I altered the timeline of "The Yoko Factor," "Primeval," and Angel the Series "Sanctuary" with reckless abandon. It's mostly AU from here. Thanks to the best beta crew: Desirata41, Zenithar, and Zigpal I couldn't do it without you.
A/N: Character thoughts are enclosed by **. Flashbacks are enclosed by //.
Archiving: By permission only.
*I can't believe I'm doing this*, Buffy thought fuzzily as she brushed her lips over Willow's. She kept the contact light, but constant, giving the redhead plenty of opportunity to pull away. Willow had stiffened when Buffy pulled her forward, but she wasn't resisting the teasing kisses. The blonde smiled into the next round of kisses and slowly applied more pressure. The sick, anxious feeling was gone. Buffy was sure she could defeat Adam right this very moment as adrenaline surged through her. Gripping Willow's shoulders, she pulled until the taller girl lay on top of her.
The change in position gave the Slayer better access. Her hands roamed up and down the other girl's back, intermittently sliding through the red hair. Eventually, the kisses slowed, and Willow pulled back to gaze down at Buffy.
"Buffy, not that I'm complaining, but what the hell is going on?"
The Slayer didn't want to talk. Talking meant that the redhead snuggled against her might not share her feelings. She avoided a reply by stretching up and recapturing Willow's lips in a heated kiss. It wasn't enough. Buffy needed more. She slid her hands down until they rested against the redhead's butt. Kneading roughly, she brought their lower bodies together and began a slow, circular grind. *Oh, yeah, Will. So good.* Even as her mind exulted at the contact, Buffy sensed something was wrong. Willow's hands pushed against her shoulders, trying to separate them. Panicking, the Slayer yanked her hands away from her friend.
"Oh, god, Will. I'm sorry. I didn't mean —"
"Hey, Buffy, no, stop. It's OK. It's just, we need to talk."
*Huh?* The Slayer was confused. Her body screamed in frustration while her mind tried to process Willow's comment. "Alright," she managed, not really sure what she had agreed to. She'd do anything, anything at all to get the witch to kiss her again.
"Earth to Buffy, you in there?" Willow sounded amused. "Hmmm. Note to self, kissing the Slayer causes confusion and loss of voice. Think I should send a memo to the Council? They might need to research the situation, find a cure."
Pouting a little, Buffy mumbled. "Not nice, Will. You get me all hot and bothered and then you want to talk."
Willow sighed, looking sad. "I know, sweetie. I'm not exactly unaffected. But, I think you have some 'splaining to do." The witch ended her statement with a stern look. "Buffy, how long have you felt like this?"
"A while," Buffy responded vaguely. She groaned in despair as Willow gave her the dreaded "Resolve Face."
"Spill, Slayer."
"Damn, Will. When did you get so 'take charge?'" There was no answer, just a fiercer look from the redhead. "OK, OK. I get it. You want answers." She paused, trying to get her scattered thoughts together. "I guess I started to notice I felt more than friendly the night we turned into our costumes. You looked so hot in that outfit, and it was all for Xander. Kinda made me jealous."
"Really?" Willow's voice squeaked.
"Really, Will." Buffy dared to sneak a quick kiss.
"Buffy." The Slayer winced at the rebuke.
"You looked so cute, how could I resist?" the blonde pleaded her case.
Sighing, Willow held Buffy's gaze. "I am glad you think I am cute. I am even more glad that you want to kiss me. But enough with the avoiding the question."
Bowing to the inevitable, the blonde reluctantly continued. "I didn't understand then what I was feeling. There was Angel and things were already so messed up." Buffy shrugged slightly. "It was easier to ignore or chalk it up to post battle hornies."
"Were you ever planning on telling me?" the redhead asked quietly.
"I started to, once, after Oz left. But you were all with the whole setting me up with Riley deal."
Willow looked shocked. "Ooh, bad decision on my part, huh?"
Laughing, Buffy nodded. "Yeah, Rosenberg. What happened to that razor sharp intellect?"
"Must have taken a siesta. I mean, I was pretty out of it after the Veruca thing." Willow sobered. "God, Buffy, I feel so terrible."
"Why?" The Slayer asked, concerned.
"I just — because of me, you went through all of the stuff with Riley. You both got hurt because of the relationship, and Tara...I think I really did some damage yesterday."
"With what you said?"
Nodding, the witch answered, "She's never been really confident, and I told her I didn't trust her. If I'd just left well enough alone..."
"No, Will. You can't think like that." Buffy gently caressed the witch's face, wiping away the tears that had started to fall. "If I had told you how I felt back then, would you have been happy? Or would you have freaked that your best girl friend was fantasizing about you?"
Willow seemed unhappy at the question. "Um, probably the second option. I mean, still in boys' town then."
"See? We may have lost our friendship over my feelings. The whole Riley thing sucks, I'll admit..." Buffy trailed off, watching Willow closely.
The redhead still looked upset. "I guess. I just — I don't want anyone to get hurt, Buffy."
"Baby, no matter what, someone is going to get hurt. If you talk with Tara and apologize, though, maybe you'll be able to stay friends. I know you really like her, and I want you to be able to practice your spells with her."
"I hope she'll be OK, Buffy. I still can't believe the things I said to her," the witch lamented.
It was clear Willow wasn't going to move past the argument without help. Glancing at the redhead through her lashes, Buffy asked in a mock innocent tone, "So, Will, did I answer all your questions?"
Grinning at the obviously false innocence, Willow pretended to think. "Well, I suppose so. Why, did you want to talk about something else?"
"No," Buffy growled playfully. "Not interested in talking at all."
"That's good, then. Neither am I," the witch said in a rough voice. She rolled off the Slayer, ignoring the whine of protest, and settled on the bed next to Buffy. "Don't worry, baby, I'm not going away. I just needed a little more room to move." She ran a lazy hand across the blonde's cheek before moving with more purpose down to the top of the thin hospital blanket. Her hand snaked beneath the covering, stopping at Buffy's breast. "Hmm, what's this?" Willow asked coyly.
Buffy couldn't answer. She simply arched into the fingers pulling at her nipple. Through a haze of arousal, the Slayer heard Willow say something, but couldn't make out the words. Using all her will power, she ground out, "What did you say, Will?"
"I said," came a voice by the door, "this is not generally part of the proscribed treatment for seriously injured patients."
***
Faith picked up a book from Tara's bookshelf and flipped through the pages. *At least this one's in English*, she mused. Still, the Slayer wasn't interested in the magical text. Returning the book to its original spot, she rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, trying to contain the energy surging through her. Brown eyes impatiently scanned the room, looking for something, anything to do. This time was no different than the other dozen or so searches. *OK. Boring magic books, boring text books, some funky skirts and stuff in the closet. Geeze, Blondie, you need to get out more. Fuck. You don't even have a TV. Who doesn't have a TV?* Scowling, the brunette stalked around the room again. When she returned to her starting point, the clock showed she'd killed another couple of minutes. So far, a whopping 40 minutes had passed since the witch ran from the room.
The Slayer made a frustrated sound. It was too much. Returning to full health meant the regular energy of her calling ripped through her veins. The earlier heavy petting session simply added to the problem. Bouncing in place, Faith took yet another look around the dorm room. This time, Tara's shower caddy and robe caught her eye. *Damn. It's just down the hall. Nobody'll notice me.* Ignoring the little Tara-voiced warning in her head, she quickly stripped off the borrowed clothes and donned the robe and wrapped a towel around her head. Wrinkling her nose, she flipped through the selection in Tara's closet. She wasn't about to wear one of the long, multi-colored skirts. Finally, the Slayer located an old, threadbare pair of jeans. Much better, even with the big sunflower embroidered on the thigh. A search of the dresser drawers yielded a T-shirt. Grabbing the shower supplies, Faith crept out of the room, making sure the door didn't lock behind her.
The hallway was empty. *Cool. T musta been worried for nothing.* Hoping the layout of this dorm matched Buffy's, Faith walked slowly down the hall, looking for the showers. Her luck ran out. There were no bathrooms in this part of the building. Turning around, the Slayer picked up her pace. She couldn't stand around in the corridor. As she hurried back toward Tara's room a tall blonde popped out of a nearby door.
She smiled at Faith. "Hey. Kinda late for a shower, isn't it?"
"Uh, yeah. Late night. Just got up," Faith answered quietly.
"Yeah, me, too. Got class, though, so no more sleep." The girl shrugged. "You staying with someone?"
Faith hesitated. *Fuck. Shut up already so I can get back to the room.* "With a friend." The blonde didn't leave, just stood there, smiling. With a sigh, the brunette continued, "Tara."
At the name, the girl smiled even more. "Hey, cool. She doesn't usually have visitors." She glanced at her watch and then frowned. "Damn. I really need to get to class."
"Um, before you go, could you point me in the direction of the showers? Can't seem to find them," Faith dared to ask.
"Oh, sure, just head back down past Tara's room. They're at that end of the hall on the left."
"Thanks." Faith watched the blonde trot toward the stairs before walking down the hall. This time, her efforts met with success. Sighing in relief, the Slayer stepped into one of the cubicles and turned on the hot water. She spent a few minutes just enjoying the water pounding down, relieving the last of the lingering stiffness before starting to wash off. Tara shouldn't be gone much longer and she wanted to be back before then.
After rinsing the last of the shampoo from her hair, Faith shut off the water and roughly toweled her hair and body. She stepped into the borrowed jeans, realizing too late that the pants were going to be a problem. The length was almost right, but they were going to land by her ankles if she let go of the waistband. Grumbling, she kept one hand tight to the material and struggled into the shirt one-handed. She couldn't get the towel wrapped back around her head, so she settled for simply laying it over her head like a veil. Picking up the rest of the supplies, the Slayer peered out of the shower room. No one appeared in the hall, so she moved hurriedly back to Tara's door. Turning the knob required all of her Slayer dexterity since one hand kept her clothed and the other held the shower caddy and robe. Finally, she managed to twist enough to unlatch the door and pushed into the room.
The first thing she noticed was a row of bags with food on the floor by the desk. But, despite the gnawing hunger that sprang to life, Faith was suddenly more interested in the witch huddled in the center of the bed, tears streaming down her face. "T, what's wrong?"