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“Don’t know if you noticed,” Faith says, “but we’re kind of already adults. That’s what they call it when you lead an army into a Hellmouth.”
Buffy laughs softly. The distance between them is getting smaller and smaller, metaphorically speaking. (Literally speaking, they’re still sitting a few inches apart. But Faith likes the metaphor better.)
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The apocalypse is over, and Buffy keeps finding excuses to be with Faith. Faith wants to know why.Post-Chosen Fuffy. Partially inspired by every single other post-Chosen Fuffy fic I've read, but I'm of the mind that you can never have too many.
Bookmarked by emptyhearts
14 Jul 2018

