Funnier in Latin

Title: You and Me
Author: Sulks
Series: Previous Story
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Buffy: Post-season 6. Angel: None, really.
Summary: A sequel to Touch. Continues straight on.
Disclaimer: All non-original characters herein belong to persons such as Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, WB, etc, etc, etc, rather the author. No compensation is received by the author or the owners of this site .
Author's Note: This is canon Buffy, this last season after Willow tried to end the world, and non-canon Angel, this last season. Gunn and Fred aren't together. I usually don't write Willow or Fred centric fic, but this idea came to me. I wrote it in about an hour, so it's kinda stinky and has been on my hard drive for a while.


She was sure they were talking about her again, it was the way the conversation stilled the moment she walked inside. She flashes them a bright smile, and acts like she didn't notice. But for Chrissakes, she is a genius, and she was a scientist, so she is very accustomed to taking in empirical evidence. And so she knew they'd been talking about her, the way they all clammed up.

She gives them another smile, and if they'd observed a little closer (instead of trying to think of a new topic for conversation) they would have noticed that this smile was a little more devious.

"They say the barometer is rising," she announces, "so it's going to get a bit warmer." She launches into a babble about warm Texas days and barbeques and they all gave her relieved, indulgent smiles. Just like she knew they would. She reminds herself to turn all the TVs in the hotel to the Weather Channel, just to fuck with them. It's mean spirited, sure, but she was sick of them acting like she was blind. She gives one more random statement, "the trees are falling off their leaves" and enjoys their looks of confusion before she leaves the room.

"I think she meant the leaves are falling from the trees," Wesley says.

"But they're not," Cordelia whispers.

She walks into the lobby and sits behind the desk, ready to take a few phone calls. She is reading a book when she hears the front door open, "Angel Investigations," she calls out brightly, "we help the help—" she looked up and saw red hair and her mouth drops open. "less," she finishes lamely.

She peers into equally astonished brown eyes.

***

"You work here?" she asks the skinny woman behind the counter. The one dressed in a completely different manner than she'd last seen her. Right now, Fred is wearing a gray baby doll t-shirt and dark blue jeans with just a tiny bit of a flair. Her long hair is flowing loosely, and there is a pair of glasses perched on her nose.

Fred stands hastily, "Hi," she says hurriedly, "how did you—"

"I'm here looking for Angel..."

Which is exactly when the man himself made his entrance. "Willow!" he calls out, hurrying over to the redhead and enveloping her in a hug. "Buffy said you'd be showing up here..."

When Fred was in fifth grade, she'd already shown a promise in mathematics, but that was when she heard about the Big Bang Theory and about all that stuff about the universe expanding. A year later, she was reading Stephen Hawkings and before she got sucked into Pylea she was doing research on Super String theory, and realized that if the problems of Super String theory could be solved, she, as a mathematician/physicist could deduce Einstein's theory of relativity, Newton's laws of motion, and Heisenberg's quantum theory all from the movements of a few squiggly one-dimensional strings. As a scientist, she'd always been so fascinated by the world because it just seemed so big. And even when she knew that the world wasn't that big and infinite a place as she once thought, there was still so much to learn... but now all because of Willow, the girl she'd had a one-night stand with a few weeks before simply because she reminded her of her dead first lover, the world seemed way too small.

"I need to go," Fred says abruptly, and sprints towards the stairs.

Willow stares after her.

"Sorry," Angel explains. "She spent five years trapped as a slave in a hell dimension. She's still readjusting."

"Oh," Willow says. What else could she have said?

***

As if drawn by some sort of mysterious force, Fred goes to the bar she met Willow in, several weeks before. Willow is already there.

"I knew you'd come," Willow says, not turning to look at her as Fred hops onto a stool next to her. "Jack and Coke for her," she says to the bartender. She is drinking a Midori Sour. It's only when he sets the drink in front of Fred that Willow finally turns to look at Fred.

"You look different."

Fred shrugs. Tonight she is wearing a black leather skirt and a skimpy red top. It's technically more of a handkerchief than anything else, but she's enjoying the stares she's getting from men and women. She knows she's a little bit on the skinny side, and she's always been self-conscious of her small breasts, but in a top like the one she's wearing, it's good to be on the skinny side.

"I hear you spent five years in a hell dimension and now you're a little off." Willow sounds a little mean.

Fred doesn't flinch. "I hear you tried to end the world and now you're doing the racked with guilt and atoning thing."

"Touché."

"You decided not to stay at the Hotel," Fred comments. She's a little relieved about that.

"This is true," Willow agrees.

Neither of them were sure where the tension between the two of them came from, maybe it was because they both resent the other. It was just supposed to be a one-night stand, and now they were in an awkward position. Neither of them really thought they'd ever see each other again.

They drink a little bit more, five Jack and Cokes for Fred, two and half Midori Sours for Willow.

They stumble back to Willow's motel room. Fred much more drunk than Willow. The redhead practically holds Fred upright as she fumbles for her keys. They grope each other as they stagger towards the bed, shedding each other's clothing. The room is dark except for the moonlight wafting in through the window.

"You're playing dress up," Willow mutters, as she rips off Fred's skirt, and fingers Fred through her panties. Fred squirms. "Be still," Willow commands as she reaches up and pinches one of Fred's nipples. Willow takes off Fred's top and takes one of the erect nipples into her mouth. Fred moans and Willow feels herself getting a little wetter knowing that she's in control. She wraps her legs around one of Fred's and begins rubbing herself against Fred's leg, she sighs at the friction and Fred's deepening moans. She reaches down to cup Fred's mound and inserted a few fingers. Then she curls her fingers around her thumb and quickly thrusts upward. Fred gasps and shrieks in pleasure at the sudden invasion. "Fuck," she mutters, "oh, fuck."

"When I saw you today," Willow says, "you looked so innocent. You've got a pretty dirty mouth for such an innocent face." Fred opens her mouth to answer, but Willow brushes a finger against her clitoris, and her eyes roll back in pleasure.

"Which one is the real you, Fred? The one at the Hotel or the one who bought me a drink that night?"

She brings her lips down to Fred's labia and teases her. Fred grabs the sides of Willow's head and brings the redhead closer. "Please," Fred gasps out. "Please."

But Willow simply continues her torment.

"Were you playing dress up at the bar? "Willow asks, as she pulls her mouth away, but uses her finger to stroke the inside of Fred's opening. "Doesn't matter," Willow mutters. "You looked beautiful."

Later, after Willow has allowed her to come, Fred realizes that that was the moment Willow began to display some tenderness.

"I'm sorry," Willow mutters, placing herself on top of Fred's still twitching body. "I had no right to ask you that...I have no place to judge." she begins to massage one of Fred's breasts with one hand and lightly plays with Fred's pubic hair with the other. Fred cranes her neck to capture Willow's mouth with her own. She sits up and spreads open Willow's legs.

She kisses the inside of Willow's thighs. Willow's hips thrust upward as she feels Fred's tongue making little swirls inside her.

***

"Tell me about her," Fred says, as they lie in bed, intertwined, neither quite ready to let go but neither of them expecting anything more than a fuck. "Your girlfriend."

She feels Willow freezes up beside her. But eventually, Willow relaxes.

"She was so beautiful and shy...and sweet. She had nice hands...they were always warm..."Willow's voice trailed off for a moment, as flashes of Tara passed before her eyes. The way Tara would wake her up in the mornings when she was refusing to get out of bed...Tara's tongue in her mouth, kissing her sweetly. Tara smiling at her when Willow was sad even when Tara herself didn't feel like smiling. She remembers the look of betrayal on Tara's face when she found out that Willow had cast a spell on her. She remembers the torment of months gone by, when all she wanted was Tara's arms around her again. In the end, she believes that if she only hadn't cast that memory spell, if she only hadn't betrayed Tara, then she and Tara wouldn't have had to make up...that Tara would still be alive. 'If only I'd acted like a grown up and talked it out, instead of acting like a child...'

"Tara had the sweetest way of looking at me, part shy, part vixen" Willow continues, finally finding her voice. "She was so beautiful, so sweet...she sang like an angel..." Willow coughs to cover up the fact that she is very near tears, "sometimes, in the morning, the sun would be in her hair, and she'd look like an angel too...she was so happy those days when we used to go to class together..." She was unwilling to share any further, "tell me about the girl."

"What girl?"

"The one you're trying to forget."

"There's no—"

"I know what it's like to want to forget," Willow says gently, "tell me about her."

"Her name was Lauren, and sometimes she used to drive me crazy, but I loved her more than I've ever loved anyone else. I'd go over to her house after school because she got a home a little bit later than I did— she was on the basketball team. And she'd be lying on her bed, reading Shakespeare or some other book, and she had a thing about windows. She loved windows. It was the first thing she'd look at the moment she walked into any given room."

"Tara liked strawberry maple syrup on German pancakes."

"Lauren put sesame seeds in her scrambled eggs."

"Tara liked to rub my belly."

"Lauren was ticklish everywhere."

"Tara was never shy in bed."

"Lauren was."

It was like each woman was really talking to herself.

"I wanted her so bad," Fred whispers. "I wanted her the moment I saw her, she never even know how much I wanted her. I've never felt that way about anyone ever again that immediate sense of desire."

"What happened to her?"

"She died."

"Oh."

"There were days in Pylea," Fred continues softly, staring up at the ceiling, no longer even aware that Willow was still in the room. "that I used to even wonder if my name was really Winifred, but I never forgot her name, I never forgot her face. She smelled like Tide and Bounce...you know that fabric softener and Finesse shampoo and conditioner, and sometimes she smelled a little sweaty, like after a practice or a game, but she always smelled so good. And her lips always tasted a little fruity."

"The night Tara died," Willow says, continuing where Fred left off, "she was more concerned with my shirt than she was with herself...her blood...it was all over me...she was always like that though. All she ever wanted to do was to make me happy and I abused that. I tried to control her, I tried to make her mine with spells because I couldn't face up to losing her. And then I did...but she forgave me, because that was in her nature. But if I...if I..." Willow's breathing becomes a little more erratic. "If I didn't cast that spell...then maybe that morning never would have happened, maybe she'd never would have been near that window..." Willow begins to lose steam. "God," she whispers before fresh tears come to the surface.

Fred is crying as well, remembering the look on Lauren's face when Fred told her she didn't love her. She remembers Lauren pleading with her, "please don't freak out about this, we can get through it. I'll do anything you ask me to!" She can still feel the desperation in Lauren's voice. She remembers being cruel, pushing Lauren away and walking out the door without looking back, closing it softly. She remembers pausing outside the door of Lauren's room, hearing the girl cry. She remembers the tears that came to her own eyes at that moment before she finally just walked away.

Fred stops crying first. She wraps her arms around Willow and buries her face into Willow's neck. "Don't cry," she mutters as she pulls her head away. "It's okay. We're both okay."

It was a lie they both wanted so much to believe.

"We'll get through this," Fred tries to soothe.

Willow finally quiets down. "You and me?" she asks softly.

"Yeah."