Stay Cool | Fred/Faith | R
Name: Dylan
Female character you'd like paired with Fred: Faith
Three elements you'd like included: Pizza, a hot night, a cold shower.
Two things you don't want: sex toys/anything phallic (I'm gay for a reason :p ) Crazy!Faith
Range of ratings you'd like to read: R or higher and hotter if possible.
Does your request require comics canon?: Nope
If not, are you okay if comics canon is used?: Sure
Author notes:
I know this -->| |<-- much about the first four seasons of Angel, so I apologize in advance for any glaring errors or omissions.
I've never written Faith before, so again, I apologize for any OOCness.
Stay Cool
Los Angeles sweltered and the Hyperion baked. Not normally an issue, but the ancient A/C unit had conked out again, leaving the superterranean portion of the building nigh intolerable. Angel put in maintenance request before fleeing to the sewers to do Angel things. The rest of the gang interpreted this to mean “vacation time!” Cordelia shot out of her chair and grabbed her handbag, chittering excitedly about a mall crawl. Wesley polished off his tea and mumbled something about a library, following a safe distance behind the whirlwind that was the May Queen. Gunn watched them both with a wry grin, then said, “Think I'll hop in the pick 'em up and visit the peeps.”
That made no sense to Fred. “Yer gonna visit little sugar-coated marshmallows?”
Gunn laughed. “Oh-ho, Texas got jokes!”
“It does? I mean, I do?”
“You're too much. Stay cool, girl.”
“That don't seem likely, with the lack of climate control 'n all.”
“Uh. Yeah. Anyway, I'm out.” Gunn sauntered to the door and was gone.
Fred sighed and blew a limp lock of hair from her eyes, feeling a bit sad that no one had invited her along. Sure, she was still a little crazy and a lot agoraphobic, but they could at least give her the option. She wandered out from behind the desk and gazed forlornly at the empty lobby.
“Stay cool,” she murmured, and toyed briefly with the notion of fixing the air conditioning herself. But that meant darkness and confined spaces, or worse, darkness and wide open spaces. Fred shuddered. Then she considered retreating to the basement, but again, dark and confined, not to mention stinky and scary. “No way, Josè!”
In the end, she settled for sprawling on the cool marble floor of the lobby. Fred squirmed until she was comfortable as she could possibly be on the hard surface, then let her mind wander and eventually shut down.
***
Fred rollerskated through a cosmos where cheesy pizzas dripped delicious toppings all over the sky, which made no sense cuz pizzas were kinda small and the universe was kinda huge, unless the pizzas were bigger than the stars, or, or, unless the pizzas were so close she could reach out and grab a slice, which would be really great cuz Fred was kinda hungry, but wait a minute, how come she wasn't freezing or suffocating in the vacuum of space (ouch), unless this was some kind of alternate pizza universe governed by different rules, and why oh why couldn't she have spent five years here instead of stupid Pylea with its stupid demons and their stupid cow culture (ouch!), and what the heck was with the rollerskates anyway, she hadn't rollerskated since was nine because she did the splits and ripped her pants and everyone laughed at her (OWW--)
“--WWW!”
Fred clutched her ribs and sat up fast, whimpering at the crick in her neck.
“Evenin',” drawled a husky voice.
Fred peered out from under a curtain of brown, her sleep-addled brain trying to process what she was seeing. There were feet encased in combat boots and muscular legs wrapped in tight leather pants, There was a flat stomach only half-concealed by a camo tank top. There were generous breasts threatening to spill out of said top. There was wavy dark hair, lots of it, falling over pale shoulders. And there was a face, soft yet hard, with eyes that shimmered like opals. All belonging to just about the prettiest girl Fred had ever seen.
“Uh,” was the most intelligent reply she could formulate.
The woman seemed both aware of her effect and amused by it. She offered Fred a hand, which was gratefully taken. Fred groaned as her muscles protested, but finally managed to stand up straight. She noticed the newcomer bore her weight easily with one arm.
“Well, look at you,” the dark-haired beauty purred, following her own advice. “What's your name, Slim?”
“I, uh...Fred. I'm Fred Burkle. Hi.”
“What kind of name is Fred?”
“Oh, it's short for Winifred.”
“Winifred. Winnie. I like that. Do ya whinny, Winnie?”
The woman looked her over again, and Fred had the distinct impression she was being mentally undressed.
“Yeah,” the woman continued. “Yeah, I bet ya do.”
Fred opened and closed her mouth a couple times but nothing came out. Finally, she mustered a, “And y'all are?”
“Faith's the name, licking ass is the game.”
Fred blinked. “Uh, did you say...licking ass?”
Faith gave her a weird look. “Kicking. I said kicking.”
Fred blushed to the tips of her toes.
Faith smirked. “Ya faint and hit your head on the floor or something?”
“No! No. Nothin' like that. It was just really hot and Gunn told me stay cool and the floor was cool so I laid down and I musta fell asleep and is there somethin' I can help you with?”
“Yano, you're kinda strange. But I dig that. And ya babble like Red back in SunnyD.”
“I babble like a color in a bottle of juice?”
“Huh?”
“Huh? I mean, why are you here exactly?”
“To see Brood Boy. Got a situation and I need his help.”
“Brood Boy? Oh, you mean Angel! Brood Boy, that's funny, I like that,” said Fred between giggles punctuated by a loud snort and another muscle spasm. She grabbed her nose in mortification and her neck in pain.
“All in knots, huh? I know how that goes. My ce-uh, roommate: IBS from hell! I sleep on the floor a lot.”
“IBS from hell? Is that demon or somethin'?”
“Ha! More like demon shits! Anynasty, you should go and take a wicked hot shower. That'll loosen ya up.”
“Oh no, I can't. I gotta stay cool.”
“Well, good luck with that. Must be 90 in here. What, Angel forget to pay the utility bill this month?” Faith chortled at her own joke and stalked over to the circular couch gracing the center of the lobby. She sat down, spread her legs wide, and patted the space between. “C'mere, Winnie.”
Fred started forward automatically, thinking how mighty inviting that spot looked. Then she hesitated, remembering caution. “Wait. Why?”
“Plan B.”
“What's Plan B?”
Faith held up her hands and wiggled her digits. “Faith's Magic Fingers. They make everything better!”
Fred giggled again.
Faith tossed her head, beckoning. “C'mon, Slim. I'll take care of ya.”
The huskiness was back in her voice, causing Fred to blush. She thought it would be nice to be taken care of. Sure, Angel and the others tried to help her to be less crazy, but they were gone more often than not, and she was alone more often than not, and alone was lonely no matter what anyone said. Fred hated being lonely. Five years in a cave on Pylea was enough lonely for a lifetime. Having made her decision, the shy physicist moved into position, perching on the edge of the couch.
“I don't bite,” chided Faith, grabbing her hips and tugging her backward a bit. “Might nibble though.”
Then the massage began, and oh, what a glorious massage it was! A sweet, sweet, symphony of relief wherein the brunette played the muscles of her back and neck like a virtuoso. There were many happy noises followed a slow release of tension. Fred hadn't felt this good in...well, a very long time.
“Where did-guhh-you learn-ahhh-this?”
“I took a massage therapy class in pr-uh, community college.”
“Good thinkin',” Fred purred. Bonelessly, carelessly, she slumped against Faith, who took that as a sign to let her hands roam further afield. They trailed down Fred's sides, over her stomach, then up, up to the very bottoms of her modest breasts, caressing the sensitive flesh through the cotton of her shirt. Fred inhaled sharply, but made no protest, so Faith continued upward until she had her hands full.
“Mmm, now these are very nice.”
“W-was this part of yer massage therapy class?” Fred asked in a quivering voice as Faith gently kneaded.
Faith laughed. “Naw, this the freestyle part of the session. I had to practice this at home. I practiced a lot.”
That visual did strange and wonderful things to Fred's tummy. Then Faith's clever hands dove under her shirt until fingers found nipples, and pinched them and rolled them, and-
“Aw, crap!” Faith muttered, withdrawing her mitts. “Looks like the jig's up, Winnie.”
“Faith? Why are you out of prison? And why are you fondling my employee?”
Fred shot to her feet and spun to find Angel looming near the staircase. “Angel! I, uh, floor, we, uh, neck...wait, prison?” she squeaked, looking to Faith.
The brunette shrugged apologetically and stood up. “Yeah, Slim, I busted out of the pokey today.”
Angel was pinching the bridge of his nose. Hard. After long moments, he growled, “Faith. Office. Now. Fred, go to your room.”
Winifred Burkle didn't need to be told twice, no sir. As she scurried up the steps, all hot and sticky and confused, she decided to take Faith's advice. Except this shower would be cold. Very cold. “Stay cool, Burkle,” she reminded herself. “Gotta stay cool, girl.”
Fin