who buffy & asami what fighting monkey mutts when friday evening 2/19 where a park! warnings R-- violent monkey killing! medical-related things. also it's super long. status complete on posting!
With a pile of bloodstained clothes to be tossed out for lack of desire to wash them all properly, Buffy had become fed up with this Panem invasion. Her attempt to find the rumored beastie had been unsuccessful, but it hadn’t stopped her from going out in the thick of it all. Everything appeared to be coming in varying waves of intensity. It felt like Sunnydale. If she hadn’t already empathized with Gale when they’d first gotten to know one another, she was certainly on overdrive now.
That day, Buffy had texted Asami to meet up for another go of finding the beast again. Reports had become sparser, but that didn’t mean something wasn’t out there. It was in her instinct to be out there hunting, so she picked a park near Asami’s place, intending to start the search there.
Now she felt like there were eyes on them from all around, something that prompted her to slide the sword she’d strapped to her back out from its sheath. Coming up alongside Asami, she kept her eyes on the neighboring trees.
“Something’s here,” she cautioned. “Don’t suppose you brought a flashlight for when the light’s completely killed?”
Luckily, most of Asami’s clothing was red, especially the thicker outfit she wore when she knew she’d get into a tussle and wanted something with a little more protection. Hid blood better!
She hadn’t done anything remotely superheroic in a long time, and part of her missed the danger and unpredictability. And the helping people. She didn’t consider herself a super hero, but she still liked helping and the adrenaline rush that came with a good fight.
And hanging out with someone as attractive and fun as Buffy was never a bad thing.
She checked the charge on her glove, then fished around in her belt until she pulled out a small flash light. “Lets see what’s out there.”
Dozens of eyes glowed in the beam. “I wish I hadn’t looked….are those monkeys?”
In her dreams, Buffy loathed the idea of being a hero. She’d been cursed with a responsibility no one at her age deserved, but being on something of the other side of the coin in this reality (or whatever the case might be), it lent a broader perspective. In times of crisis, she could help make a difference and maintain a normal life shared by the masses, one filled with inexplicable oddities.
When the lesser beasts in question were illuminated by the artificial light, Buffy’s eyebrows rose immediately. “Huh,” she exhaled. “That’s… not what I was expecting.”
Already underestimating them, Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and laughed. “If this is what the big deal was in the news, I want my money back. Monkeys? Seriously? What’s--” Abruptly cut off by one of the mutts in question, she was knocked roughly to the ground. Sword clattering away from her, Buffy struggled to get up on her hands and knees only for the monkey to pound roughly against her back.
“Yeah, okay,” she gritted out, regrouping as quickly as possible. “I see the big idea, and…” With a less than practiced grace, Buffy managed to shirk the assailant and scrambled to reclaim the sword. Eyes darting between Asami and the growling mutt, she gave the blade an expert twirl. “I’m still not all that impressed. Hope you don’t have any reservations for -- wait for it, I’ve got the greatest pun ever--gorilla warfare! ‘Cause that’s happening.”
The alarming thing wasn’t just the monkeys, but their teeth. As a unit the troop started to shriek and scream, showing off teeth that looked like razor blades. Asami shocked the nearest one as it got too close. “Always have time to monkey around.”
Hey, she could pun too! “Not quite the night out I envisioned.”
“Ooh, two points for a follow-up pun,” Buffy quipped as she planted a kick on an encroaching mutt from the rear. “That’s worth a shot. What do you think?”
She paused to spin the blade around in an arc that sliced two more across the midsection, leaving them dying on the ground. Buffy stared at them with a tiny pang of guilt. Why did it have to be monkey-looking things? At least the vampires in her universe had the decency to burst into dust after a good slaying.
“Not a pun, just a we should go for drinkies after this. Although…” With a rough backhand to another foe, not at all stealthily creeping along, Buffy all but slid into place behind her friend. “Does kinda work as one, huh?”
“Only two points? I was so sure that was a three-pointer.” Asami ducked low as a monkey lashed out at her. They were a lot easier than some of the fights she’d been in but there was something a lot more dangerous about them too. They were feral, and angry, and had no fear of them. What’s worse was the growing number of them.
They could handle two dozen right?
She kicked one away, planting her back to Buffy’s. “We’re going to need alcohol after this, but I don’t know if we’ll be drinking it or applying it to monkey bites.”
Having fought vampires and demons in her dreams, a rumble with monkeys seemed like child’s play. Her endurance would get her through the fight, but the number of them could prove problematic. They were strong and fast, brutally relentless. Buffy didn’t want anything to happen to Asami by overstaying their welcome, but she also didn’t want any nearby bystanders to suffer either.
“Sorry, as the reigning Pun Champion, I just gotta call ‘em like I see ‘em,” she managed to say between dodging and kicking. “I can add a half point bias ‘cause we’re friends though.”
In her dreams thus far, the only person she’d fought alongside like this had been a man she’d been desperately trying not to think about. In spite of that, Asami was different; Buffy liked being around her. It was easier not to think about Angel when she was around.
“Maybe both?” She suggested while defending herself deftly against the monkey mutts. Watching as one came barreling out of the darkness, she glanced over her shoulder at Asami. “With pizza? I’m gonna be starving after all this aping around. Zing!”
Buffy and Bolin would get along great, Asami decided. They had a similar sense of humor and a similar fondness for roughhousing. “Both..” she grunted as something slammed into her legs and cried out when sharp teeth punctured her pants and sank into her shin. They had some kind of sharp claws that raked her thigh and hip. She jabbed down, grabbing the monkey’s head and electrocuting it. Two more lept out at her. Asami elbowed the first and then shocked the second. “Five points for that one.”
It hurt and it was embarrassing. You couldn’t impress a friend when there was blood soaking your pants. Asami dearly missed fighting with someone like this. The ebb and flow of combat, finding that rhythm, that dance with your partner. “This keeps up I’m going to have to do some monkeybar level gymnastics. Good thing I’m flexible enough.”
At the sound of Asami’s yelp, Buffy grew serious. It hadn’t been all fun and games to begin with, so she was especially cross they’d gotten to her friend. Grazed and bruised, Buffy had managed to avoid any gnashing teeth with her preternatural speed. That Asami still had a sense of humor after the fact helped maintain her focus, but she was angry now.
Monkeys didn’t get to go around biting her dear friends.
“Five points back at you for that one, well-played, but also?” With an expert swing, she lopped off a pair of heads before they could flank them. “We may wanna think about booking it. Is it deep?”
Circling around Asami, Buffy looked down at where she’d been bitten. “Oh, I am so going to put a cap in their uchin for that. Start heading for the street, okay? I’ll cover you.”
Asami looked down at her leg again. The bite was just below her knee, but the monkey’s claws had done a number on her thigh. “Probably, but I don’t think they hit anything vital.” She nodded at Buffy, and didn’t put up a protest about the blonde fighting alone. This was the kind of thing Buffy was born for and Asami, while a good fighter, had never been bred for it. She knew when to withdraw.
She had a vivid flashback to the man with green magic who’d nearly killed her a year or so ago and shuddered. She limped away, stopping only to call back, “Just be careful.”
Asami couldn’t help it. She cared about friends, and she cared for Buffy probably more than she should. And that came out in compassion. And probably a little mothering if Buffy needed it.
With a reassuring smile, Buffy paused only to impale a monkey behind her before reaching out to grasp Asami’s arm gently. “I’ll be right behind you, there’s only like five little monkeys hanging from a tree. I can swing it.”
Between the two of them, they’d managed to take out nearly a dozen already by the looks of it. Trouble was, she didn’t want to linger long with her friend bleeding out. As soon as Asami was a safe enough distance away, Buffy turned around to survey the gathered mutts. While she could make out some eyes in the trees, there was only a handful surrounding her.
“I got this,” she murmured under her breath. Waving off the entrails on the blade, she spared one more look at her friend’s retreat before setting to work. Cutting the beasts down one by one, she moved as quickly as she could. Down to two, she found herself flat on her back with one impaled monkey atop her and another ready to bash her face in. Barely catching the fists, she struggled to slide out from underneath the dead weight while keeping a grip on its mitts.
Just as she sat up, its teeth met her shoulder. Hissing at the searing pain, she felt around blindly on the ground for something, anything within arm’s reach and found a sizable rock. Buffy wasted no time in bashing its face in, then jumped slowly back to her feet. Sword retrieved, she clamped her free hand down on the bite and decided it was well beyond time to go.
Finding her friend, Buffy waved the gory sword as a greeting. “See? I live!”
Watching Buffy fight was nice. Distracting enough that Asami stared for a few moments before actually really for reals retreating to safety. She leaned against a wall, compressing her thigh with her left hand. "I was going to be embarrassed that I got bit, but it looks like one got a piece of you. Are you okay?"
They really were going to need that rubbing alcohol. And possibly stitches.
“Yeah, cheap shot,” Buffy said with a mock pout. She’d had worse, what with the being dead and all. Drowning was such a downer. “I’m good. Or at least, I will be. Just glad you’re safe, totally worth it. Why though? Does it look that bad?”
Craning her neck to look at her hand that had been coated with her own blood, Buffy nodded in understanding. “Still, so far as battle scars go, I think you’re winning. My place isn’t too far from here, we can walk to my car and go there, getcha all doctored up. Think we’ll need rabies shots? Eeeeegh!”
“Do monkeys get rabies?” It would probably be a good idea anyway. Asami made a face. “I really hope they don’t scar.” Vanity sometimes won out for her and she did like wearing high cut swimsuits, even if she preferred more practical (if fashionable) skirts or pants. She started to limp towards Buffy’s place. “It would look terrible…”
“Probably?” Buffy responded with a cringe. “Maybe we should get the shot after we’re doctored up just in case. Can’t hurt.” Like Asami, she was a tiny bit concerned about having marks left behind. She already had bite marks on her neck from her dream of the Master, faint though they were, they stood as a visible reminder that she’d been bested.
“You can lean on me,” she added, glancing her up and down as they made their way down the sidewalk to her place. Thankfully, Buffy’s sister wasn’t home. “If you need to, can’t be fun walking on that. I’m sorry.”
Asami had noted the bite marks and wanted to touch them, but hadn’t said anything about it. She didn’t say anything when she leaned against Buffy either, but that was more for her own pride than anything else. She smiled after a moment. “You should have seen me after I fought this...mage I guess. Had this green magic, really did a number on me. He disappeared though. I haven’t heard anything about him since. He was working with my dad, or my dad was working with him. I don’t know which.”
Her dad hadn’t known he was magic though. That was almost as bad as being a bender, probably. “Uh. Here, that was here, not in my dreams.”
Slipping an arm around Asami for better balance, Buffy glanced absently at her as they walked along. “I’m supposed to be kind of immune to magic,” she started, but ultimately shook her head. “Not so sure that’s true, but, y’know. Either way, if he turns up again, tell me and I’ll kick his ass.”
The lives they all had to lead because of the dreams, sometimes she woke up utterly baffled as to how life had turned out this way. On the other hand, she wouldn’t trade her life for the world. Too many people were important to her, people she wouldn’t have met without the network and the tumble down the proverbial rabbit hole that ensued.
“We’re almost there, I promise,” she assured. “I’ll getcha all stitched up.”
“Depends on the magic probably.” Asami groaned. “Different worlds, different rules. I think I made a chart on a white board once…” Because of course she did. Bending versus magic versus mutants. But she hadn’t been able to find any links.
“It was bad, blew the power grid to slow him long enough to escape.” She shook her head. “You’re not going to be a big damn hero and take someone like that on alone.” Even Avatars had help. Chosen Ones needed help too.
“Oh yeah?” Somehow that didn’t surprise Buffy, not in the least. “Nifty. Mathy things go over my head, but y’know. I could probably get a chart like that. Maybe.” She seldom put stock in her own intelligence. Buffy knew she wasn’t exactly book smart, not in the traditional sense. Common sense coupled by resourcefulness got her through her dreams, the same could be said of her everyday life.
“But what if I wanna be a big damn hero?” She responded with a mock pout that inevitably became a knowing grin. “I’d rather kick his ass with you though. C’mon, we’re here.”
Up the short flight of stairs leading to the door, Buffy let go of Asami so she could dig her keys out of her jeans. With the door opened, she gestured for her to come inside. “Make yourself comfy, I’m gonna go find the first aid kit.”
Asami could argue that Buffy was smarter than she thought she was. She knew some things were easier or harder for some people but that didn’t make them stupid. Her own knowhow was something she prided herself in. But she never looked down on others who didn’t understand.
Buffy’s pout gave Asami a ‘I’m not straight enough for this’ moment that she pushed out of her mind as she shuffled in. “I don’t want to get blood all over your furniture.”
“Trust me, if my dreams are any indicator, this place is lucky it’s mostly a blood-free zone,” she assured. “I know the trick for getting blood out of stuff anyway, don’t worry about it. Sit down, k? I’m betting I have some booze around, too. You, couch. Me? Nurse detail.”
Disappearing into the kitchen, Buffy climbed up on the kitchen counter to rummage through the top shelf where she’d stupidly left the kit. She didn’t want her sister finding it and seeing how thoroughly used up it was. She woke up from her dreams with injuries that required discreet mending from time to time.
Plopping down on the coffee table in front of the couch with the kit and some towels in hand, she nodded at Asami. “So, uh… Gonna start with that I think you’re great and I’m glad we’re friends, but I’m gonna need you to take your pants off.”
“There’s a trick?” Asami sank onto the couch with a groan. It was obvious that her pants would have to come off and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to that. At least she’d worn cute undies.
“Remember when life was simple and all we did was go clubbing?”
“Right? Who wants to go back to that when we’ve got bite ‘n claw marks upping our dating game?” Buffy joked, then made a coaxing motion with her hands. “C’mon, off. Trust me, I really don’t care about the couch. I’m more worried ‘bout you bleeding to death.”
Seeing her friend in a bad way wouldn’t do at all. She wanted to help as much as she could, especially because she couldn’t prevent her from getting hurt. “Here, I’ll ditch my shirt, then we’ll be square.” With some wincing, she managed to shrug out of her sweater, leaving her in a thin, tan colored camisole. Blood had dripped down the front of it, but Buffy didn’t appear to be in any visible pain. The perks of being a slayer.
“As for the trick, yeah. Blood’s tricky to get out, but not impossible,” she pointed out as she took out the rubbing alcohol and some gauze.
“Oh yeah, my leg is going to pick up so many dates,” Asami joked, before she painfully and slowly pushed her pants off. The bite was deep, and there were two claw marks across the front of her thigh. “Not how I planned to drop my pants around you.”
She grimaced and looked up at Buffy. It was obviously a perk of being a slayer but those arms. And the rest of her. Asami tilted her head up to count the tiles on the ceiling instead.
“Hey, don’t knock ‘em,” Buffy said with a laugh. Leaning toward her now exposed wound, she doused the clean towel with the peroxide. Her follow-up joke quirked a brow. “Were you planning to drop trou in front of me?” There was a teasing lilt in her voice, but some part of her was a little, albeit inexplicably, curious.
Coming to sit beside her, Buffy situated herself on her knees so she could comfortably lean over the wound before cleaning it. “This is kinda bad. I was kidding about stitches before, but you may actually need them. I can clean it up and patch you up, but are you sure you don’t want me to take you to a hospital for the stitching? Also, this is gonna sting, so keep talking. It’ll distract you.”
Then, Buffy began wiping around the outer edges of the punctures, carefully and gently.
She couldn't even joke about not putting out on the first date, considering the string of people she'd picked up from clubs the past couple of months, but those weren't really dates so much as being really lonely. And Buffy leaning forward was much more distracting than any conversation. "Not even sure what we'd tell the hospital, or who on the network would have what we'd need."
And she was, definitely, avoiding the question at first. But she couldn't resist, brushing her hair over her shoulder and saying flippantly. "Well anything could happen when you're hopped up on adrenaline."
Although she’d been doing everything she could to ignore the reminders of Angel by going out clubbing excessively, Buffy’d been just the opposite. She hadn’t gone home with a soul. Was she lonely? Of course. That was why she called on her friends to go out at night. The nights were the hardest, but being around friends distracted her.
“Dog attack?” She suggested, thinking of all the newspaper headlines she’d seen in her dreams to explain vampire attacks in Sunnydale. “Probably wouldn’t be very convincing if I said I saved you from a rabid dog though, even with the shoulder wound.”
That Asami avoided answering at first didn’t go unnoticed. Focused on cleaning up the wound without causing her too much pain in the process, she would’ve let it slide. When she did make a remark, Buffy’s ministrations halted just over the worst part of the injury.
“Y’know, I get that,” she offered, though was slightly oblivious of the underlying meaning. “I wouldn’t admit it to just anyone, but in my dreams. Sometimes after a fight… I dunno. Everything’s heightened, right?”
With a shrug, she looked back at the gash with an uneasy exhale. “No hospital, then. I’ll get some alcohol, ‘cause stitches hurt without any local. Cool?”
A dog with really long teeth and razor claws? Asami wasn't sure that was remotely a good excuse, but then people seemed to be easily mislead about the truth. Asami was still unsure on the whole idea. She reached up and brushed her fingers against Buffy's old, faded bite marks. "Yeah. A good sparring match always gets me going."
Buffy was too close and Asami felt warm. She focused her eyes on Buffy's face instead, and nodded. "Yeah okay." What was the worse that could happen? "You're going to need help with your shoulder too, so probably not...too much."
She put together fine machine parts she could stich, right?
Side-eying the light touch, Buffy tossed the bloodied towel onto the coffee table and reached for the kit. It gave her an odd shudder, like it wasn’t an unwelcome touch. That was new. Trying her best not to think about it, she cleared her throat and fished out what she needed for stitching up Asami.
“Yeah,” she responded quietly, handing her the material so she could make a detour for the hooch. Was she blushing? Buffy was blushing. It should have felt weird, the turn the conversation had taken, right? Shaking her head as she disappeared into the kitchen, she hoped the break would cool her down. Instead, she returned just as flustered, but armed with two stem glasses and a bottle of Rosé. Pouring them both a glass, she held it out to Asami.
“Trade ya,” she quipped lightly. “Uhm. They’re from… before, y’know. When I had to stop hell on Earth and all that. Not pretty, huh?”
Was Buffy blushing, or was that a residual flush from the fighting earlier? The pain in her leg was more or less the worse she'd felt in this life, excepting the fight with Mr. Green Magic. She took the glass from Buffy, and grinned down at her. "Oh, Buffy, you're so romantic." She flipped her hair, though this time it was a subconscious action.. "I don't think I've ever had wine while being stitched up after being clawed and bitten by a monkey before."
She sobered a little, even as she took a drink. "They don't look that bad."
Poking fun at Buffy seemed to loosen her up, took her mind off the shift in the proverbial air. It didn’t help that she was cooling down from a fight, but she had something else to focus on. Knelt down beside her, needle in hand, she gave a much needed laugh. It broke the tiny bit of built tension.
“Very funny,” she replied, watching Asami a moment before finally beginning the hardest part--sewing up her wound. She needed steady hands for this, so her glass of wine would wait. “Well, you’re just gonna have to partner up with me more often. I always reward a good fight with some wining and dining. Dining, y’know, is a TBA, what with the stitching.”
Resting one hand on her leg as she drew the needle through her skin as painlessly as possible, Buffy’s concentration was dead set on the task, yet she managed to keep talking.
“I don’t like them,” she admitted. “Just another reminder that I’m gonna… I dunno, die young in my dreams. Or so I’m told.”
Asami quickly took a long draught of her drink, hissing through her teeth as the needle pushed through her skin. "You know how to treat a lady."
Shakily, she reached for the bottle to refill her glass. Another one should make her heady enough to grit through the pain. "You don't know that for sure." She put her hand on Buffy's shoulder, trying to be comforting. "And maybe you can look at them as something to show you survived. Not everyone gets a second chance at life."
“Oh yeah, got ‘em lined up out the door for my wine and line shtick,” she snickered. There was a silver lining in it for her friend, the injuries were deep, but didn’t require an awful amount of stitches. The lesser gashes could be patched up and healed over time. She hoped. Buffy wasn’t a medical professional.
She was just used to getting hurt.
Biting off the end of the stitching, she knotted it up and sat up in time to feel the hand on her shoulder. Less disarmed by it this time, Buffy’s smile softened appreciatively. It wasn’t a bad way of looking at it. Better than hers, at least.
“Yeah, maybe,” she halfheartedly agreed. “I got lucky, that’s for sure. Think that’ll be the story of my life, riding on luck. Anyway… There! All stitched. Ready for your bandages?” She wasn’t too worried about her own injury, she healed fast enough.
The thought was a sad one. No one should have to get used to being hurt, no matter their line of work. Though Asami supposed Korra got hurt a lot - she could just heal herself up with some water-bending and be right as rain. Massive traumatic injuries requiring years of recovery not included.
"Luck and a little bit of planning can go a long way." Asami nodded to indicate she was ready for the bandages. She didn't move her hand though, like breaking the contact would somehow end whatever this moment was.
Fiddling absently with the kit, Buffy stared at the stitched up wound rather than the woman in question. She experienced a tiny bit of fear, never mind that she had just faced down the gnashing claws and teeth of monkeys out for their blood. Whether it was that adrenaline or something else, she couldn’t ignore that undefinable something there.
So, she carried on distracting herself from it directly while relenting to the gestures in between, like that hand on her shoulder. It was reassuring, spread the sort of warmth she’d expect from the Rosé. It was usually like that around her, wasn’t it? She felt at ease, even in midst of a life or death battle.
“I’m not so good with the planning,” she admitted, venturing a glance up at Asami as she spread gauze over the cuts and taped them properly. Smoothing down the bandages gently once they were all in place, she quirked a grin at her friend, not entirely conscientious of her own lingering touch. “I run 100% on impulse. So… um, how’s that feel? Better?”
She smiled warmly when Buffy looked at her. Despite the fighting, and all the energy expended, her make-up remained on point and her hair was flawless. How did she do it?
"I'll bet you have someone that does the planning for you in your dreams, don't you." In Asami's experience, the ones with Impulse Problems typically needed someone to keep them pointed in the right direction and to call them on their bullshit.
Asami's limbs felt heavy in a nice way, the burning in her leg not so much gone as forgotten about, especially in light of the lingering touch.
“Whole group of ‘em,” Buffy said with a bashful laugh. She wouldn’t be alive in the dreams thus far without her Scooby Gang. Seeing them in her dreams, often the same ones on repeat these days rather than anything new since seeing her in-dream boyfriend lose his soul, made her actively miss them throughout the day.
Satisfied with her work, she moved to take a seat beside her on the couch--close, but mindful of her injured leg. Dousing the last clean towel with some of the peroxide, she started cleaning her shoulder. “I don’t have them here, but y’know. That’s okay. Have friends here. You’re a pretty good substitute,” she finished with a gentle nudge.
“I think you could probably use some of that help here if you’re going to keep doing the hero gig.” She nudged Buffy back, careful to not harm her shoulder. “I see how it is, I’m just a substitute Scoob.”
“Kidding, kidding!” She laughed, appreciating the humor. Shoulder tidied, Buffy tossed the towel aside and finally reached to pour herself a much needed glass of wine. “You’re much more than just a sub, I promise. But it isn’t easy… y’know, asking for help. I’m always scared of…” She hesitated a moment, eyes on the wine swirling in her glass. “Losing people.”
"I understand." How could she not. Buffy dreamed of vampires and other supernatural creatures, creatures that could kill a man in seconds. And if someone was an ordinary human, what could they do against it? Asami had witnessed benders of exceptional skill and overwhelming power. People even she couldn't beat in one on one combat. But that hadn't stopped her from trying, or falling into the pattern of working as a single unit with Korra. And even Korra, the Avatar, the woman who was basically a living god, could fall.
"People have every right to make their own decision, choose their own fates. And maybe that decision could lead to suffering. But it was still their choice to make."
“What do I do when I lose them all?” She questioned, instantly regretting voicing it. So, she regrouped hastily enough. Talking about her issues wasn’t exactly her forte. Buffy clammed up the minute things became personal as a rule. “But hey, they’re just dreams anyway. Dreams that pack a punch, but, y’know. Dreams. Should focus on reality, right?”
The odds that she’d ever meet anyone from her dreams felt slim. Apart from Angel and her sister, the she’d never crossed paths with those faces before. The people she had to worry about, the ones she wanted to protect were different and just as important.
“Hey, how ‘bout a cheers? For kicking monkey ass and living to tell the tale?” She prompted, tilting her glass toward Asami’s.
“You mourn, then you move on and you find other people.” Asami twirled her drink around in her glass and took another long swig before clicking her glass to Buffy’s. “It’s okay to feel like they’re real people. To miss them like they’re real people. But cheers to kicking monkey-butt.”
She didn’t want to mourn. If anything, as much as she still feared dying to some extent, Buffy wanted to be the first to go. Having to live through the loss of people she loved? That didn’t appeal to her at all. If everyone had to have a degree of cowardice, hers resided squarely in that place.
Clinking glasses with hers, Buffy managed a smile anyway. “Yeah, it’s weird though, right? The way everything’s turned of ‘cause of the dreams. All that aside though, I’m pretty glad I got to meet you.”
With a tired sigh, she shifted to rest her head on Asami’s shoulder. “Some night. You can crash here tonight if you want.”
Was it fair to make people have to grieve her? It wasn’t fair to really ask that question though. Asami nodded again. “I’m glad I got to meet you too.” She rested her own cheek on the top of Buffy’s head, nuzzling ever so slightly. “You sure?”
It was totally normal, wasn’t it? She tended to be affectionate with her friends. Never mind that she didn’t second guess the moments with her other friends. Letting it go with a faint smile, she’d accept things as they were. Polishing off the glass of wine, she nodded initially in response, though didn’t budge from where she sat.
“Positive,” she assured. “I have more wine, probably something microwavable in the kitchen, and loads of really bad movies. More importantly, I have zero places to be tomorrow. Can lend you some PJs if you want, by the way. ‘Less you wanna hang around in your skivvies, which is, y’know. Also okay.” Oddly. Totally normal.
“I can call out. I own the company after all.” Too many of Asami’s friends had been her friend because she was a heiress, it was always nice to have friends who were normal people and didn’t care about that. It tended to make her a lot more liberal with random gifts too - she liked to make people smile, especially when she knew they weren’t her friend for free-stuff.
“I don’t know if I can get into the PJs right now without help. Which would probably be more awkward than the status quo.”
“True,” Buffy nodded, not opposed to the idea either. “Whatever works! Whatcha feel like? Guest’s rules!”
Of a similar nature, Buffy had the whim to spoil her friends rotten, but not the means. So, she made up for it now by protecting them fiercely. Whether they were rich or poor, or even somewhere in between, she saw everyone as an equal.
“Would it?”’ She questioned with a shrug. “No big, doesn't bother me, so long as you're comfy.”
“It’s not like..” Asami groaned, pushing herself more onto the couch and using Buffy almost like a body pillow. “You’re a guy or something.” Though in today’s world maybe that distinction didn’t matter as much, but Asami was firmly under the impression that it wasn’t an option with Buffy.
“For starters… If I were a guy, I’d be fabulous,” she joked, shifting just a bit to accommodate for their new sitting arrangement. “And also way too short to feel super manly, which, y’know. Totally matters or whatever,” finished Buffy with a roll of her eyes.
“It’s um… I don’t know,” Buffy paused as she tried to sort it out for herself and failed miserably. The thought of opening another bottle of wine crossed her mind, but she wanted her mental faculties about her for the evening. It would take more than one more bottle inhibit her, most likely, but she didn’t want to test it either. “Do you, I mean--like. Nothing.” Smooth.
“You’d have a napoleon complex,” Asami stated, turning her head towards Buffy and grinning. “Just don’t try to conquer Russia.” She pursed her perfect lips, and tilted her head. “Like nothing?”
“Right?” That earned a laugh, easing some of the lingering tension brought on by uncertainty. “‘Cause… it didn’t work out for him, right? I’m… pretty sure I slept through that part of history. And the previous century, and… every century after that.” She was only a little serious about that. Buffy wasn’t as bad as her dream counterpart, but had very little to show for her academic endeavors.
Watching her friend like a hawk now, Buffy realized she was staring and averted her eyes as casually as possible. There was the strange feeling again, urging her to voice her thoughts. It would’ve been easier to punch a monkey in the face than speak up.
“Yeah, I’m really eloquent after a glass of wine, huh?” She spoke in jest, teetering on the edge of finding a way to change the subject. “But, no. More like. Something? Not even sure what I wanted to say, I’m bad with the… Englishing.”
"You're definitely doomed to repeat it then." Asami nodded her head in a sage, wizened manner. She was having trouble parsing through Buffy's words. Was she asking if she was into women? Asami was sure it had come up more than once, it was a subtle way of gauging interest in the beginning. Or had Buffy pegged onto... shit.
"Depends on...what that something is." Her wine glass suddenly looked really interesting.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmured. Repetition of history could be deadly in her case, but Buffy didn’t let it sour her mood. There were other things on her mind, like quelling that nagging curiosity if she was reading something between the lines that wasn’t there.
More importantly, she was trying to figure out what it might mean for her if she was right. As it stood, Buffy’s preference had always been of the male persuasion, no denying that. The love of her life was a long lost man likely never to return to her, and some nights she almost believed that was for the best.
“Sorry,” she said sincerely, growing bashful. “I don’t usually… I mean, I’m not kidding with the bad with the wordage thing, I’m just not usually this, um… It’s just, I know I can tell you stuff, but I’m kinda worried I’ll kill the mood. And, y’know. Sabotage things. ‘Cause that’s what I do. Buffy, the Comfort Slayer.”
If Asami could figure out what the mood actually was she could say if there was something to kill. She tucked some hair behind her ear, careful to keep her eyes on her drink and not Buffy’s face. “You could probably tell me almost anything and it wouldn’t change my opinion of you.”
Though she’d tell Buffy that she could do better than Angel. Or eventually Spike. Or riley eew damn it Buffy you have poor taste. She’d still support her!
Clearly Asami was better at wordage but even she didn’t know what words needed to be said.
It was an easy thing to say to the people you cared about, wasn’t it? Buffy had a myriad of trust issues, but she didn’t want them to creep into her friendship with Asami. That intangible shift in the air after the fight was something she couldn’t shake, but had no way of expressing. Passing it off as an effect of adrenaline didn’t seem fair or right.
“It’s just… I don’t usually--I’m not--but, like…ugh, this is stupid,” she groaned at herself, head flopping back against the couch in a show of frustration at herself. “What am I, twelve? It feels different right now. Doesn’t it? You don’t have to answer. In fact, you can feel free to pretend I didn’t say anything and we can order some food and settle in for the night.”
“Buffy,” Asami started. She trailed off on the last syllable, chewing on her lip as she searched for what to say. Part of her just wanted to kiss her, but she didn’t want to assume. Still, she leaned her head in, almost invitingly. “Does it feel different because you’re attracted to me?”
Tensing at the question, Buffy didn’t move an inch. There was no escaping now, no quip that could save her. She’d pressed it, so she had to respond somehow. When tensions were high, she fell back on the crutch of humor, well polished after years of use. It didn’t seem right, the worms had fallen all over the ground; it was practically her duty to tidy them up.
Nervous beyond reproach, her eyes danced between her friend’s mouth and her eyes. Was a tiny bit of her attracted to Asami? She’d never entertained thoughts of other women before, not really, but she’d never given it much thought to begin with. In spite of dating around, she had difficulties connecting with people emotionally. Blaming most of that on the man who left her, Buffy was beginning to wonder if there was more to it than that.
“Kinda--yeah? Sorry, maybe it’s just a combo, y’know, we were kicking a lot of ass, and now I’m all--really making this weird, aren’t I?”
“Adrenaline can make you do things you’ve ever expected to do, but it’s kind of like being a little tipsy. It doesn’t change you, just lowers your inhibitions.” Except when you get really drunk and then it’s just not you at all. Asami didn’t move forward, or back. “Is it weird?”
“Right,” that was a fair point. She certainly wasn’t intoxicated right now, and enough time had passed that she couldn’t really blame it on adrenaline completely, could she? The biggest hurdle now was deciding what to do with the cards on the table. Maybe the real problem was an innate fear of screwing things up. She had a habit of doing that, or so she felt.
“No, it’s nice,” Buffy admitted, glancing down almost shyly. “Which is actually weird, but not… in a bad way. Confusing, but not bad.”
Asami smiled, then brushed some hair out of Buffy’s face. It was a miracle she hadn’t tripped all over herself - for all her suave charm she was a dork at heart. She leaned her head away and rested her cheek on Buffy’s shoulder. “I wasn’t lying when I said you probably couldn’t change my opinion of you.”
“Probably,” Buffy pointed out, her nerves shining through. “If I said I was thinking un-Buffy-like thoughts, you might change your mind.” She had enough damage from past relationships to fall back on her trust issues with an iron grip. Not to say she didn’t trust Asami, Buffy mostly didn’t trust herself. “It’s okay though, this is nice. We kicked ass, survived, now there’s wine and possibly food in our future. Not a bad way to end a night, huh?”
“Un-buffy like thoughts?” This, Asami had to hear. She kept her eyes closed, her face turned away from Buffy as she kept it on the blonde’s shoulder. “This is nice.” Her leg, well it hurt, but she hadn’t cared about it hurting for awhile now. The booze was having that kind of effect on her.
“Yep,” Buffy responded hesitantly. Torn between finding some excuse to run away or just changing the subject altogether, she wrestled up the fraying edges of her courage and attempted to stitch it back together. “It’s like there’s a pull… the kind I don’t ever feel with um…” Other girls? She let that hang in the air and followed it instead with, “Is that way off base?”
“No, I don’t think it’s off base.” Asami’s face started to heat up, and she hesitantly put a hand on Buffy’s leg. “There’s always a first time for everything, right?”
Eyes darting from her friend’s hand to Asami’s eyes, Buffy swore the earth stood still for, at the very least, a fraction of a second. Was she into this? Was she completely out of her mind? How long had an attraction existed? Better yet: how much did any of those questions matter in light of how much she didn't feel like running away. Whatever sexual preferences she purported to have didn't seem to matter. If anything, she'd never given them any thought in the first place. Not until now.
Covering the hand upon her leg with one of her own, she gave a faint nod. “Right,” she agreed. “So… Where's that leave us?”
“Wherever you want it to.” Asami’s smile was gentle, reassuring. She was the type of person who could pinewait for a very long time. “Or just where we were before.” No pressure, Asami was trying to say, unintentional bedroom eyes aside. She swallowed, hoping she wasn’t messing things up, but she’d put the option out there and now she’d have to deal with the consequences. She mostly hoped if Buffy wasn’t actually interested she’d actually say so.
Standing at a decisive crossroad, Buffy suddenly smiled gratefully at Asami. It was the perfect amount of subtlety she needed while stumbling into absolutely unknown territory. Given an out, she didn't reach out to grasp it. Instead, Buffy raised her hand up to lay against Asami’s face, smile mollifying with previously guarded affection.
“Nah,” she started softly, as though the world might hear and ruin the moment. “I'm pretty okay with forward momentum.”
Pulse pounding in her ears, Asami searched Buffy’s eyes. She lifted her hand to the side of Buffy’s neck,resting her palm over the faint scars there. Leaning her face into Buffy’s touch, she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to lean in and kiss the blonde. It was very nearly a losing battle, the lowered inhibitions from the wine and the pain in her leg making fighting it exhausting. “Forward momentum, I like forward momentum.”
Exhaling an unsteady breath, Buffy shifted ever so slightly to be closer to Asami. Fully accepting the mutual attraction in them wouldn't likely happen over night, but she was well on the way already. Having an innate fondness for her and the way she seemed to balance Buffy out helped. The one thing she knew for certain was the clamoring urge egging her on to kiss Asami. It had been such a long, tiring day. She wanted to end it on a nice note.
“Yeah? Seal it with a kiss?” Prompted Buffy as confidently as she could, hazel eyes glued to Asami’s mouth.
There was a lot to like about Buffy. She was strong, stubborn and funny. She appreciated some of the girlier things in life, and she didn't entirely glaze over if Asami talked shop. That was always a bonus.
But if Asami was waiting for a sign, any sign, that Buffy wanted this as much as she did, that had to be it. She leaned in the rest of the way, soft, red lips pressing gently against Buffy's.
It was difficult to forgo comparisons, if only because she’d never kissed another girl before. For a split second, Buffy inwardly panicked that she was being too impulsive or brash. Only for a second. The kiss clicked, soft and sweet, so she eased into it slowly, feeling her way around the brand new experience. Hand sliding up into Asami’s hair, Buffy urged her a little closer until the injury she’d incurred came to mind.
Drawing back a hair’s breadth from her mouth, forehead to forehead, Buffy settled down enough to say, “You’re hurt, maybe -- maybe I should cool it down? Rest is… Key and all that, right?” She had to be making some semblance of sense, she hoped.
The twinge in her leg reminded her about her injury before Buffy did. But the hand in her hair and how quickly Buffy pulled her into made her dizzy and not really care. But then Buffy’s lips pulled away and Asami spent a moment with her mouth hanging open. Her throat bobbed, fingers digging into Buffy’s skin. “Resting is the smart thing to do.”
“Do you… want to go rest now?” She offered, mindful of her friend’s condition. “The couch is probably not super comfy for that ‘n all.” While Asami’s injury looked rough, Buffy was trying to be optimistic--nothing a little rest and relaxation couldn’t cure, right? She would be okay. “C’mon, think it might be a tiiiiny bit less weird if I help you with the PJs now!”
“One condition,” Asami said, tiredness creeping into her voice. “You don’t sleep on the couch either.”
Hopping to her feet, Buffy held out a hand to Asami. “Fine, fine. Arm twisted. And bitten! Well. Shoulder, but y’know. Close ‘nough. Either way, all good incentives to lay down. Up you go!”
Asami too Buffy’s land, letting her pull her up. But as soon as she put weight on her leg she cried out in pain and collapsed against her friend. The room spun and threatened to send Asami spilling to the ground.
Grateful for fast reflexes, Buffy caught her friend’s fall. Holding her close, arms about her waist and pressed into her back, she stayed still for a moment to give her time to recover from the pain. “It’s okay,” she cooed into her ear. “At least, it will be. I gotcha. Just um…” With some careful maneuvering, she turned her back to Asami and bent at the knees. “Hop on?”
Did she have to coo? If Asami’s leg wasn’t protesting mightily she might have swooned. Carefully, she wrapped her arms around Buffy’s shoulders and hopped into her arms. There was a part of Asami that always appreciated someone that could be protective, and this show of strength only made her more attracted.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“No worries,” Buffy assured, carrying Asami with a fair amount of ease. Super strength had its merits. It was a brave front, something to mask the concern she had for her leg. Granted it was a new injury and she’d been sewn up by someone who spent many nights in her dreams doing just that, Asami didn’t have the sort of healing factor that Buffy did. She’d have to check with Gale later about any effects from the monkey bites.
“I wish I could do something about the pain,” she said, making her way to the bedroom. Depositing her on the bed carefully, Buffy stood beside Asami a moment, hands on her hips. “Actually, might have some pain killers. I’ll get them, you just get comfy, k?”
“You look really sexy like that,” Asami said, her filter completely gone now. She turned red and covered her face. “Painkillersaregood.”
Her face heated up almost instantly. Glancing down at herself, some blood droplets staining the camisole she wore while leaving the rest pristine. With the blush immediately followed a put-on cocky grin, “Well, y’know. I really know how to rock a monkey bite.”
Reaching out, she tried to coax the hands from Asami’s face away. “It’s cute, the whole shy thing, but you don’t have to be. It’s fine. Okay?”
“I’m supposed to be the smooth, sultry femme fatale and look at me.” Asami looked up into Buffy’s face. Truthfully, her inner dork usually won out. “I’m tripping all over myself.”
She knew all about letting one’s inner dork out, though in Buffy’s case, she had much less control over it. Her mouth tended to run away with her. All the way to kissing her friend tonight, which was something she’d continue to process while fetching her painkillers. Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed next to her for a moment and reached out to grab Asami’s hand to give it a squeeze.
“Even sultry femme fatales can stumble a little,” Buffy assured with a sincere smile. “Promise I won’t tell though.”
“You better not. I have a reputation to uphold.” Asami sank back onto the pillow, closing her eyes as if that would help her retain her dignity. Dignity that had gone out the window between having to drop her pants for stitches and … everything else. “I’m just glad you’re not freaking out.”
“Yeah, I’m glad, too,” Buffy admitted sheepishly. “‘Cause I’m not entirely sure I won’t later, but I think it’ll just be tiny. I hope. I’m… really good at hiding, so don’t--” She paused to choose her words more carefully. She didn’t want to worry Asami, but Buffy knew herself. She had a tendency of freaking out over her impulsive choices, regret didn’t go along with it, however.
“Don’t think the worst,” she settled on saying. “Okay? Now, get comfy and I’ll get that stuff and we’ll settle in for the night.”
“Fine,” Asami breathed. She was exhausted, but she had the energy to ask, “Don’t..hide to too much okay? Trust me, I know what its like to freak out about this.”
“I won't, I promise,” Buffy assured. One thing she knew for certain was how at ease she was around Asami. Although this shift between them may have rocked the boat to some degree, she thought it was only in the best and very much needed sort of way. “Now, sit tight! Nurse Buffy is on duty!”
She would take care of her friend (kissing friend?) and settle in for the night. Everything else, whatever issues rippling beneath the surface, could wait until tomorrow.