Title: Maybe, Just Maybe (may change)
Disclaimer: Please don't; purely for entertainment, creators of 'Buffy'. None of the characters are mine (so far). However, steal my idea, or 'borrow' without my permission, and I will be the one to sue.
Pairings:None, as of yet, but it's obvious what it's gonna be (B/F if you didn't get it)
Note:Around Season 3, before 'Bad Girls,' and just so you know, I'm rough on my viewings of S3 so if I get things wrong please let me know.
Feedback: Always and forever =D
Warnings: Adult situations. Not yet, but knowing me, there will be =)
Rating: As far as rating goes, it will develop into situations of adult nature and language will probably get bad too, so if you're under 18 (or 16 in the UK) please don't read.


Every time I look into her eyes its as if she knows exactly what I'm feeling, thinking. This bad-ass chick. It's as if she can see right through me. Except I know that she can't.

I've always wanted to believe that she'd just know what I was feeling, and thinking. I've never found it easy to admit the hard things to people I care about. Especially her. That's why when she looks at me, I like to think that she knows.

The Chosen Two. That's what she calls us. Chosen to kick evil's ass and stake out the bad guy. Hmm. Except I think it's always the aftershock she's waiting for. She kicks butt so she can get that feeling. That 'uh' feeling that she always talks about. That she thinks I get after we get in for a kill. She wonders whether or not it makes that adrenaline pumping through my body trigger that something that will make me want to rip Xander's inside's out…well…not literally.

But I see the look on her face in the after-hours of patrol. She's all about the 'sweating, side-by-side nightly "action"' and it's all about the good 'uhh,' after. And even when she's with me it's implied. I don't know if that's what she thinks I'm all about too. I think she thinks I'm too tightly-wound. Too good to play something like that.

But then there's always the Bronze. The dancing, the drinking…the sweating…more side-by-side action…I wonder if she thinks it's not what I'm about. She thinks I'll say 'no' and catch up with her at training tomorrow.

She doesn't get that I enjoy every single heated moment of it, and how hot it really does get me. She doesn't see it in my eyes. I see it in hers. Because she tells me and I recognise it. That passion, lust…ecstasy…the build up of it and how she lets it all out.

We dance at the Bronze as if there's no one else there. As if it's just us two and the music has consumed our souls and taken us as its play-things. We dance so close that we can't get any closer, and later dismiss it as that 'juiced' feeling from patrol. I can taste her as I inhale, and I can feel her body heat, it makes me even hotter. But it's just dancing.

I wonder so much if Faith knows what it really is, in me, I mean. If she can honestly understand what it is I really feel. Not like after patrolling, that 'juiced' feeling. I wonder if she knows how I feel, at all.

Sure, she knows what I tell her. But what else?

I haven't seen her since training yesterday. And she called me a couple of hours ago asking if I was patrolling tonight and if I wanted to go with her. I said I had a homework assignment. She said blow it off. I said why not.

So now I'm walking along the street, away from my house. My heart is going. Fast. I can't figure out why.

Of course I can.

I get this feeling every time I meet her. I need to admit it already.

She says we'll probably end up bumping into each other whilst getting in a slay. And it'll be the same old 'I'll save your ass and then you'll return the favour a couple of minutes later.'

I'll see the look on her face when she slays that vamp for me, all tough and serious. Then she'll break it up with one of those joke she always makes. It makes me laugh every time.

Except for the part where she talks about how slaying gets her juiced. The bad-ass dark one of us. The sexual fiend who would quite luckily get any guy for lay if she wanted. She could make guys scream for her, and I think she sheer thought of that is what gets her so powerfully 'soaked.' I wonder if she notices how quiet I am every time she talks about this.

Now I'm thinking about what I'm gonna say when I see her. Last time we met was training and god knows how much I love the sparring and the weaponry and the grunting…which I told her I wasn't comfortable with…and how close she always gets to me…and the breathing and the eye contact – 'beg me to go one step further' seems to always be that look in her eyes and god, if she's not thinking that then my mind really is being messed with. What am I thinking?

So yeah, yesterday she managed to literally sweep me off my feet and land me on my back where she sat on top of me and held a 'knife' to my throat. For a moment I saw something in her eyes that told me she wasn't concentrating on the sparring. But I didn't get a chance to say anything before Giles said he was impressed with Faith and that I needed to focus more on the objective – I couldn't even remember what it was. She changed her position too fast for me to realise how in fact it was that she was sitting upon me.

Oh yeah. What to say.

You have no idea how difficult it is trying so hard not to blurt out something when you know how much you really want to. Faith's bugging over how 'juiced' she is, again. Patrolling was a buzz, and she managed to do two at once – vamps…I mean. The look on her face when she – kinda like how she's looking right now. I would imagine right in that point where she's about to climax, where she just lets everything go and the highest intoxication has her. Right where it wants her. And she's looking over at the dance floor.

We're where we usually hang out after patrolling – the Bronze, and she must've only had a couple of drinks so far. I promised myself I would lay off the stuff for tonight. Plus I wasn't feeling so hot about having to make friends with the shiny white ceramic bowl that would swallow the contents of my stomach for the hours after I'd be done here. And also, it tends to be the catalyst in making me blurt out everything that's on my mind.

She taps me lightly on the arm, asking me what's up.

'Nothing, just, thinking, random thoughts, you know me.' I blow it off with a little laugh, and she nods slow. Damn. She's trying to figure me out. I look at her for a second longer than I should have. I'm guessing tearing my eyes away wasn't the right thing to do.

I'm pleading for her to shrug it off, as she always does. And I'm so lucky that this is one of those times when she does. 'Wanna dance?' she asks, looking over at the crowd of moving bodies, inebriated as her, only in a different context. Her body's pulsating from the heat of slaying. They don't know what it's like.

But I do. I share that feeling with her. I feel it now. Only it's not amplified from the intoxication of alcohol. For me, at least.

'Sure, why not,' I say and I don't even have a chance to finish my drink before she pulls me over to the dance floor.

And all at once all those times I'd spent hours thinking about had begun to happen again. She's dancing right up close to me, wanting to get out of me what she'd always wanted to get out of me from every night we'd been here, alone together. After slaying. I wonder if she realised just how 'painfully alone' we were. Not with Will, or Xander. Just us.

I can feel almost every inch of her body pressing fiercely against mine and I'm wishing that it would stop, because it's pushing me to want to do something that I might regret. But I can't ask her to stop. My words are swallowed by my own fear. So I dance, as I always do. I return the favour. And as always, I can feel the body heat. I can smell her scent, I can feel her breath on me…warm…gorgeous, almost like a kiss.

My mind is starting to wonder. I'm thinking what it would be like if she touched me just that little bit more. I would want so much to beg her to go further, but once again my words would not come out – just from sheer anxiety. I'd just let it happen, and it would all be in the eyes, because my words would be shunned from the pressing fear that she wouldn't want to. But I'm still thinking what it would feel like if she slid a hand down the small of my back, down to my thigh, and up under my skirt. And what would happen next. Would it be here?

I'm letting my eyes fall closed, this is too much. I hear that all too familiar

'You alright, B? Seem fuzzy…' she says as she pulls me over to one side. I sit down on the nearest bar stool.

'Just tired.' That's my best excuse and I'm hoping it'll work. I think she's buying it, cos she's frowning a little, as if she's about to ask me if I wanna go home.

'Wanna go back to my place?'

Crap. It's my heart again. I can't speak because it's currently using all the energy I have, and If I speak…I'll faint. So I try to nod. She's taking my hand.

Well if she isn't still juiced, I am.

'Man, I wish you'd seen the look on that vamp's face when he saw me, I swear he was crapping bricks,' she says, laughing as we walk along the deserted street leading up to her motel.

I nod a little, and smile.

For some reason I expected her to ask me if something was wrong, again. I wasn't speaking. Instead she retrieved her keys and stuck them in the lock of her room. I stepped in after her, the scent of it coming my way immediately. Nothing strong, just her.

I'm not looking at anything in particular, although I can sense her moving around me. She takes off her jacket and I hear it hit the comforter, and she slips her boots off and I hear them clonk on the floor as if she's thrown them off her feet. I hear her sitting on the bed. And a sigh.

'Alright. Spill.'

I look up, and make a lame attempt at a smile. 'What?' I put on the chirpy and try to turn off the miserable, gluing myself to the spot I had found the moment I entered the room.

'Oh come on, something's been buggin' your ass all night. You hardly said two words to me and when you did you put on the pout and was all miserable with it.'

I shrug. I can't do this. Not right now. 'It's just…' But my mouth is way out of sync with my mind. 'Me.' I couldn't just say "goodnight," and walk away.

Of course really I wanted to say how much I wanted her right now, and couldn't wait any longer. How I'd wanted her for so long…too long. I wanted her to understand that all those nights we'd patrolled together I wanted to be the one that trembled for her, and I wanted her to tremble for me to. But inside I'm just shutting up and planning on pouting again.

Faith frowns and I can't help but love the crease in her forehead, the sign of seriousness, serious concern arising in her mind, I'm guessing. 'What about you?'

I'm silent. I chew on my lip. Why the hell did I go ahead and say anything? I move gently, listening to my own feet padding on the carpet, and soon join her on the bed. I resort to looking down into my own palms, too scared to look into her eyes.

I give it some time, and she's as patient as I always wanted her to be. Unlike her. 'And Angel.'

I think I can sense her making an 'O' shape with her mouth. It was the only thing I could say, that would stop her thinking that I was thinking about her. She nods a little and turns towards me. 'Well I'm not one for saying the right thing…what's up with him?' she mutters, and I think I've put her in a very uncomfortable position cos she's sitting still. She doesn't usually sit still.

I shrug. 'Don't really wanna talk about it.'

Faith sighs. 'Want me to walk you home?' Bless. Faith trying to play the 'caring' game. I shake my head and rise from the bed.

'No, no…it's cool. I can, walk myself home. But thanks.'

'Well, if you need-'

'Yeah, I…' I trail off. Dammit. I have to mentally kick myself to finish my sentence, although I'm staring straight into her eyes just to check what she's thinking. I can't really pick up anything, right now. 'I know. Thanks.'

I need her.

As the door clicks behind me I let out a loud sigh and clench my fist. Why is it so hard to just be myself around her? It's as if every movement I make needs to be thought out, every word, everything. I can't physically bring myself to walk right now. But something inside me trips and I start to walk. And I walk fast.