Post-Chosen ficlet: Last Rites
Jul. 9th, 2003 10:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflyIn the Perfect Possible universe, very soon after Chosen.
Well, if you've clicked on this, you plan on reading the story, so I'd like to take this time to say that I welcome suggestions. Think that it doesn't sound in character? I'd love to know! If I screwed up on some of the tenses? Please tell me! (Thanks,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katie_m, for the spot beta)
Last Rites
Only two weeks had passed since the collapse of Sunnydale. They'd spent most of that time in LA, figuring out what to do next.
For those two weeks, Buffy had been an anchor for everyone else. But earlier today, she'd told everyone else to get lost for the rest of the day, stopping Xander before he got out the door.
She'd smiled at him, pulled out some beer, and told him that they were going to mourn.
A few hours later, both of them had been well on their way to being drunk.
He'd been lying on the carpet, looking up at a very boring ceiling, with Buffy draped over his stomach, giggling and talking about Spike. A truly bizarre experience, one to be placed with every other odd moment he'd had with Buffy. She had a way of making his entire world off-balance.
He'd found himself telling her things about Anya, about love and ticking bombs and how she'd owed him a warning, too. And Buffy had told him about comfort and handcuffs and souls.
A couple of hours after that, when they'd moved to sitting on the bed, they'd had their first kiss.
She'd brushed a finger across his eye-patch and he'd seen tears shining in her eyes.
Maybe it had been to stop her from crying that he'd kissed her.
Her lips had been soft… and strange. She'd started crying halfway through, and he'd had to struggle to control his own tears. After the kiss had ended, he'd wrapped his arms around her, and she'd done the same to him. When he'd felt her relax, her head resting on his chest and her breathing settling down, he'd given in to sleep.
When they woke up the next morning, they didn't talk about it.
They didn't kiss again until more than three years later.
Well, if you've clicked on this, you plan on reading the story, so I'd like to take this time to say that I welcome suggestions. Think that it doesn't sound in character? I'd love to know! If I screwed up on some of the tenses? Please tell me! (Thanks,
katie_m, for the spot beta)Last Rites
Only two weeks had passed since the collapse of Sunnydale. They'd spent most of that time in LA, figuring out what to do next.
For those two weeks, Buffy had been an anchor for everyone else. But earlier today, she'd told everyone else to get lost for the rest of the day, stopping Xander before he got out the door.
She'd smiled at him, pulled out some beer, and told him that they were going to mourn.
A few hours later, both of them had been well on their way to being drunk.
He'd been lying on the carpet, looking up at a very boring ceiling, with Buffy draped over his stomach, giggling and talking about Spike. A truly bizarre experience, one to be placed with every other odd moment he'd had with Buffy. She had a way of making his entire world off-balance.
He'd found himself telling her things about Anya, about love and ticking bombs and how she'd owed him a warning, too. And Buffy had told him about comfort and handcuffs and souls.
A couple of hours after that, when they'd moved to sitting on the bed, they'd had their first kiss.
She'd brushed a finger across his eye-patch and he'd seen tears shining in her eyes.
Maybe it had been to stop her from crying that he'd kissed her.
Her lips had been soft… and strange. She'd started crying halfway through, and he'd had to struggle to control his own tears. After the kiss had ended, he'd wrapped his arms around her, and she'd done the same to him. When he'd felt her relax, her head resting on his chest and her breathing settling down, he'd given in to sleep.
When they woke up the next morning, they didn't talk about it.
They didn't kiss again until more than three years later.