Buffista Fic 2: They Said It Couldn't Be Done.
[NAFDA] Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
Ooooof. "I don’t think the lack of boundaries is good for us. Or for the boys.” Yeah, she's thinking about it. Run away, Jimmy.
A lot of this feels viscerally familiar, in a way that I can appreciate the writing while the things being described make me want to hide behind the couch. Like a lot of TV I've watched, actually.
On the show she took him back to her place after Parent's Night. He was happy that maybe she took him back. She was like "I think you should be gone before the kids get up."
He...kind of has it coming(heh) but still? Harsh.
There was a lull while they ordered, and then again while they had dinner.
“This pasta is too soggy to be al dente. It’s supposed to be firm.”
“Things happen, Elena. Besides, you picked the place.”
“It used to be better…what do you know? Irish cuisine is soda bread—I’m half Italian."
“I know.” Since they weren’t together anymore, Jimmy reasoned that there were a limited number of times he’d have to hear this rant. He smiled a little, but his surprise was genuine when Faith bounded in in her body-hugging pants and kissed Jimmy on his cheek. “Hey, baby.”
Performing these introductions was one of McNulty’s happiest moments either dressed or without handcuffs. “Faith, this is my soon-to-be ex, Elena. Elena, this is my friend, Faith.”
“Hello, Elena. I hope I have the guts to wear a skirt that short when I am your age.”
Elena said “Thank you,” but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She stabbed some salad with her fork as if she was irritated with it.
Jimmy said “Could you give us a moment?”
Jimmy led Faith outside, where she thought about bumming a cigarette, but changed her mind.
“You’re welcome. You know, for a detective, you’re surprisingly easy to follow.”
Jimmy replied in the kind of hoarse whisper he used when Michael was about to run out in traffic. “Good to know, considering there’s about to be a three-car pileup at the intersection of Thank You and What The Fuck? What is all that, Faith?”
“Just because I usually don’t play chick games doesn’t mean I don’t know what they are… having a well-lubricated mother teaches you a few things. Besides the little woman looks like a tight-ass.’
“You’d be surprised….I mean…she’s the mother of my children, so I don’t think her ass is any of your business.”
“But I think you’re more bent because her ass isn’t any of your business, either. Oh, sure, she’ll probably drop her fork tonight just so you get a glimpse of what she shows the Pilates instructor that she might even be making you pay for…”
“I thought she said it was chiropractic for her repetitive stress,” Jimmy admitted. “But you’re hardly the person to talk about outfits that…promise things.”
She moved in closer. Even after a few weeks, it was still pretty intoxicating. “I don’t just promise. I deliver. Usually. But if you don't let go of her, you'll be the one with the carpal tunnel." Faith made the jerk-off hand gesture probably still beloved by schoolkids and Jimmy still thought she was hot. Which, on some level he knew wasn't playing with a full deck, but there it was.
“Are you…disappointed about, you know. Me? Because…” He felt close to the point where, if he were watching himself in the Box, he might think “Jeez, stop talking, you shit-for-brains,” and this time he could. He guessed that’s what sobriety(Ok, so he wet his beak a little with the so-so chianti, but he wasn’t tempted by it.) gave him that he missed.
“If that bothered you,” he persisted, in that tone that gave Jimmy’s bosses migraines. “Why did you come down here?”
“It wasn’t that far,” Faith replied. “Is that what ‘Smalltimore’ is? Cause I think we know what it isn’t.”
“Thank you. So, why did you?"
"Fun, Jimmy. Remember fun?"
Nice work, erika! Very fun stuff
Thanks! Glad you think so.
I love these characters, even if they don't keep a tight grip on their threes.(Jimmy *might* have a pair of threes, but not much more than that.)
More from Faith and Jimmy:
What’s it like?”
“Mmm?” Once again, Jimmy had thought Faith was asleep. He found himself looking at his own hands and wondering about the same thing. “What? To have magic hands?”
“No, although you got the job done well enough…finally.”She sat up in bed and gave him a teasing smile.
“Damned by faint praise.” He replied. “What’s what like? I’m not some kind of moron, but there are limited things that I know., and you’ve seen both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat…which I’m not gonna go on about so I don’t jinx myself.”
“What’s it like saving people?” For once, Jimmy thought, she was acting her age. Like someone at the tail end of her teens getting excited about starting a new gig. Scrub away some of the mystical crap and she could be an academy, recruit, almost. It made him happy to hear it, but also made him feel really old.
Jimmy frowned. “You don’t really get to do that in Homicide. Maybe a little, if you think long-term and all, but mostly? I doubt I’ve met very many ‘stop me before I kill again’ Hannibal Lecter types. Just people who are stupid or crazy enough to find a really extreme answer to their problems. When I was in uniform, I stopped a purse-snatching once…that was pretty cool.”
“I’ll bet everyone was really impressed.”
“Not really…I was supposed to be at a training about preventing sexual harassment and I pulled over and caught the thief instead. Still not sure I ever finished the class either, but saving an old lady’s grocery money felt more like why we’re here, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
Faith didn’t freak out about all the dreams she’d always had a lot of. Because, like, seriously, even if her mother weren’t like…chemically enhanced all the time, she was in a living situation where going to her mom with a nightmare was more like Tuesday, than “Poor baby,”. Faith had tried her share of chemicals, and had never really had the hangovers that plagued the little crew of dropouts she used to halfway be the mayor of. She could push her brain and always could push it a little bit more, but being even halfway called? Made acid…what do you call it? Redundant.
Still, that night as she lay next to McNulty, she knew it had to mean more than disappointment with herself for breaking her personal “Get some, get gone” rules, that she dreamed of a tiny blonde in a white prom dress and weeds in her hair that hugged her close at the same time she said “This town won’t be big enough for the two of us.” The hug felt good, if damp enough to be startling. The emotion made her tear up and feel frustrated at the same time.
Faith woke, gasping, expecting to be wet in a different way than she was when she went to sleep, but when she felt around in the bed the lake water was part of the dream, not in the room. Jimmy mumbled in his sleep, and for the briefest, most deluded instant, she imagined he knew what she was going through. As if she’d really gotten to be that young girl who could believe things besides heavy destinies are meant to be, she touched his hand, and he held it for an instant before mumbling something to “Elena” and smacking her hand away. Guess he didn’t have a white horse in his closet.
Oooooooooof. That packed a punch. Or three, maybe.
Just a little drabble, like one of Victor's ones.
About A Girl
“Ooh, Spike, look at the sad, pretty boy. Do you think it would help him to play with Miss Edith?”
“Oh, Dru, love,” Spike replied. “Tell me you didn’t really bring that doll to a show.” Spike looked at the slender Cobain. “Bit wet for a rocker. Even in a town that never dries out.”
“Do you think it rains so much because he has clouds around his head?”
“Makes as much sense as anything, dear."