Ficlets: "Virtues" and "Smooth Hit"

[sahiya.livejournal.com]

There are three or four more coming later, but I thought I'd start with these two. None of them are beta'd, but they were fun (and I'm very glad to have something to post today, whew).

Let this serve as a disclaimer that I don't own any of them, Joss does.

Title: Virtues
Rating: PG for Faith's mouth
Summary/Prompt: For antennapedia, who wanted "Giles/Faith, tattoos and target practice." Two outta three ain't bad.

Virtues

"How did I ever let you talk me into this?"

Faith grinned at Giles, who did not smile back. He was kinda on the pasty white side, she thought, sitting in he tattoo guy's chair with his forearm resting on the padded table. "How I ever talk you into anything, G," she said, sitting back. "I bribed you with sex." Jake, the artist, setting up his ink and needles across the room, gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"Lies, damn lies," Giles sniffed.

"Hey, least I let you design your own."

"How kind."

"So c'mon, tell me what you're gonna get." Faith leaned forward, trying to get a look at the paper Giles had carefully folded and placed in his pocket before they left the house. "Gonna get a scythe like B and me?" And wasn't that just a trip, that she and B had matching tats now, after years of barely being able to find a civil word with four hands and all their combined slayer powers between them.

Giles gave her a look. "The scythe is a symbol of the slayers. I am not a slayer, ergo, it would make little sense for me to get a scythe."

"So, what, you gonna get a watcher symbol?" Faith raised her eyebrows. "What's that, a book? Some old guy with a stick shoved up his -"

"Faith."

"All right, Mr. Giles," Jake said, obviously pretending he hadn't heard a word of their conversation. Whatever, Jake was cool. He'd done her and B's tats (Faith's up the back of her right calf, B's between her shoulder blades) and never asked why two chicks were getting matching tats of some wicked blade. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Giles nodded to Faith. "I'll see you after."

"'Scuse me? You're kicking me out?"

"I'll see you after," Giles said firmly. Jake gave her an apologetic look, but clearly wasn't about to go against the client's wishes.

"Whatev, G. Just 'cause you're afraid to let me hear you scream like a little girl . . ." Giles, characteristically, refused to rise to the bait. Faith sighed and wandered out to sit in the waiting area. She crossed her legs, ignored the leer of the asshole behind the counter, and flipped through a magazine full of tat designs. Generic, ugly ones, mostly. Faith wanted another tat, but didn't know what or where yet. Something that didn't have a damn thing to do with the slayer gig, maybe.

It didn't take very long - G must not've gotten any color. That didn't surprise Faith, somehow. G was the type to go black and white and totally classy, with clean, simple lines. She dropped the magazine and stood up, trying not to look too eager. Jake was ringing G up and giving him a bunch of instructions on after-care. G nodded, listening as though he'd never done this before, when Faith knew otherwise and so would Jake, if he'd gotten a look at G's other forearm. She'd been sorta surprised when G had decided to get the new tat on his arm, like his old one, but when she'd asked, he'd just said, "Symmetry."

Which made zero sense, but whatev.

"So let's see it," Faith said, as soon as they were in the car.

Giles nodded and removed the gauze, holding out his arm so she could see. It took Faith's eye a few seconds to sort it out. It was a bunch of runes, two vertical lines of them, tucked into a complicated knot. Black and white, just like she'd thought. A little busy at first, but elegant once you realized what you were looking at.

She had no fucking clue what it meant, and said as much. Giles smiled. "This one," he said, pointing to the one on the right, "is the rune for integrity, and this one," he pointed to the one on the left, "for loyalty. The knot is a Celtic symbol of wisdom. Integrity, loyalty, wisdom. All of which are virtues I hope to instill in future generations of watchers."

"Cool," Faith said. She held his forearm in her hands and tilted her head to see it from a new angle. "Should've known you'd manage to be a big geek even about your tat."

Giles huffed out a laugh. "But is it?"

"Is it what?"

"What you said it would be."

"Oh," Faith said, and grinned. "Oh yeah, G. It's fucking hot."

Fin.

Title: Smooth Hit
Rating: PG for drug use
Summary/Prompt: For whichclothes, who wanted "Giles/Spike, drugs and regrets." Not at all shippy unless you squint.

Smooth Hit

Giles's preferred drug of choice was alcohol - had been for years now. But when Spike showed up at his door with a bag of hash, he was hard-pressed to say no. Even if it was Spike, of whom Giles disapproved both generally (he was a vampire) and specifically (he was Spike, and his infatuation with Buffy could not have gone anywhere good).

But that didn't matter anymore, did it? They'd buried Buffy a week ago. Giles had taken care of everything, of everyone, and at night he'd got quietly, despondently drunk. It hadn't helped.

"I have a pipe somewhere," he said to Spike, who failed to look surprised, and went upstairs to try and dig it out. He found it in the back of his closet, in a shoebox of memorabilia, buried beneath some pictures of himself and Ethan. Giles shoved those aside hastily - the impulse to call Ethan had been strong of late, not helped at all by the postcard with a phone number in a familiar hand that had arrived three days after Buffy's death. All in all, getting stoned with Spike would probably be less self-destructive. And that was saying something.

Giles sat on the sofa. Spike sat on the floor, back against a chair, and lit the pipe with practiced ease. He took a deep drag, then passed it to Giles. "Whiskey's nice," he said, expelling the smoke, "but sometimes . . ."

"Quite." Giles dragged at the pipe. It was a smooth hit and he took a second one, then handed it back to Spike. They traded it back and forth without speaking for several turns, then, by wordless agreement, let it go out. Giles leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. His head spun slightly. He was already high and still climbing. He realized, belatedly, that he probably should have ascertained that it was only pot and nothing else.

"When do you miss her the most?" Spike asked, after a long silence.

"All the time," Giles said heavily. "But mostly . . . when I'm with the others. I keep expecting her to say something, to take charge in her imitable way. And when she doesn't, I turn to ask her why she's so quiet and I realize . . . she's not there."

Spike nodded. He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and passed it to Giles. "Wondered why you hadn't been around much. For me it's the night time. She used to come 'round my crypt on patrol - not like we were friends or nothing, especially after - well. But she'd come round. Some nights I think, She'll be by soon, and then, like you said, I realize."

Giles nodded. He should ask about the others, he thought. Make sure they're all right. He didn't.

"When're you leaving?" Spike asked.

Giles lifted his head. "How did you -"

"I know these things, Rupes." Spike shrugged and stubbed out the cigarette. "Some people draw together in times of trouble. Others . . . don't."

Said like that, it sounded damning. "How dare you -"

"Hey," Spike said, raising his hands, "didn't say it was wrong."

Giles was silent. "End of summer," he said at last.

Spike nodded. "Little Bit'll probably take it better if you're around more between now and then." Giles nodded. "'Nother hit?"

Giles didn't answer immediately. He leaned his head back and, through the mental haze of hash and nicotine, thought of Dawn, who had become almost like his own daughter in a way Buffy never had. He thought of Buffy crossing the wide lawn at UC Sunnydale, bathed in the light of a lovely spring day. He thought of all the stakes he'd whittled for her that the others were using now, of crystals and meditation and how beautiful she was when she slayed.

"Please," he said.

Fin.