I know, spamming tonight, but! Fic post! NEW FIC
Title: Cotton Candy and Tilt-A-Whirl and Corndogs, Oh My!
Author: southernbangel
Pairing: Angel/Faith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Angel, Faith, a carnival. Which of these items does not belong?
Author's Notes: Written for thenyxie for the Fluff-A-Thon. (Nothing like being late for my own ficathon. I rule.) thenyxie, I am so very sorry for being so late.
The sickly sweet aroma of cotton candy warred with the scent of human sweat, assaulting Angel as he and Faith stepped onto the fairgrounds. He inwardly recoiled at the garish lights of the various attractions, the loud, tinny music barely drowning out the heartbeats of the teeming masses of people. Children darted between the two, one enthusiastic young girl nearly taking Angel out at the knees with a gigantic stuffed teddy bear.
“Sorry, mistah,” she cried as she chased after three older children, nothing more than a passing glance over her shoulder as she followed her friends.
Angel rubbed his left knee and winced as a particularly loud announcement sounded just behind him. The words were nearly incomprehensible through the static, but Faith understood as she grabbed Angel’s hand and began dragging him toward the large center stage.
“C’mon, baby! They’re about to hold the pie-eating contest. This you have to see. They’d probably put Spike to shame.” Faith paused for a moment and then shook her head. “Nah, even Spike’s complete lack of manners would disgust these people, and I’m not even talking about the fact he drinks O-Pos rather than O.J.”
Angel followed behind her, the secure grip she had on his hand his link to sanity. He had never been one for crowds-a century or so of complete solitude really stuck with someone-and even now, being surrounded by large groups of people still was not on his list of favorite activities to do on a Saturday night. Spending time with Faith, yes, but preferably that time was spent alone and involved more kissing and less darting in between crowds of strangers.
He barely kept up with Faith, so enthusiastic was she to not miss a moment of the pie-eating contest. They arrived at the center stage, swarming with yet more people, and Angel barely suppressed a groan as Faith shouldered their way through the crowd toward the front rows. He was sure he had never received such looks of disgust, not even from Xander during his days in Sunnydale. He had the strange thought that if he revealed his game face right now, people would be more upset at the fact that he and Faith were apparently stealing prime seats for the upcoming contest.
There was a reason why Angel stuck to his small group of friends and fellow demons.
After the pie-eating contest--the recent attack by Neratim demons when Angel nearly lost a leg and Spike his head was a less scary event, in Angel’s opinion-he followed Faith to the row of rides circling the outer edges of the carnival. Tilt-A-Whirl, Bump and Bash, The Octopus, The Sizzler, Chair-O-Planes, these were definitely not the rides and attractions Angel experienced at the 1889 Exposition Universelle in Paris. These names did not inspire confidence, but Faith’s elbow in his side quickly made Angel realize that there were worse punishments than being trapped in a tiny metal car hurtling through the air at 100 miles per hour.
Of course Faith would choose The Sizzler as the first ride. As Angel lowered the metal bar and checked and re-checked the meager scrap of fabric known as the safety belt, a frisson of fear raced through him. He could face hordes of demons, scorned gods, a damn dragon, and yet a carnival ride had him contemplating his will and whether he had updated it.
“Relax, big guy. You know the odds of this car flying off and sending us to our deaths?”
“Not helping, Faith,” he said through gritted teeth. Angel relaxed only slightly when Faith slid her arm around his waist, untucking his shirt slightly to lightly tickle his skin.
“Relax,” she repeated. “I promise you’ll be safe, and when we get home I’ll show you thankful I am to have such a big, strong, brave boyfriend,” she said, her voice lowering to the sexy growl that never failed to have Angel looking for the nearest bed.
“I cannot believe you wanted to come here. Faith the Vampire Slayer becoming giddy and child-like at the thought of a carnival and consuming her body weight in cotton candy and, I can barely say it, fried Coke?”
When the sharp retort didn’t come, he glanced over at Faith, and the lack of focus in her eyes told him he had hit a sore spot. He turned to face her, or as much as he could in the tight confines of the car, and grabbed her free hand.
“Hey. Hey, look at me,” he whispered, reaching up to caress her cheek. “I’m sor-“
“There’s nothing to apologize for, A,” she interrupted. “It’s nothin’, just. . . I never had this before, you know? A real childhood with the typical kid things. A dog, a treehouse, go-carts, camping outside with your best friend. . . It’s not how I grew up. We didn’t really get carnivals in Boston but that always seemed like the family thing to do, you know? Mom and Pop take Sally and John to the carnival where the kids ride the Ferris Wheel and eat cotton candy before falling asleep on the car ride home. I always wanted that.” Her voice was a mere whisper by the end of her speech and Angel ached for the pain evident in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Faith. I’m sorry you didn’t have the childhood you should have had, I’m sorry your mother was more concerned with herself than for you, I’m sorry you had to grow up so quickly. However, I can’t be sorry for it all because it’s made you into the strong, confident, sexy, determined woman I love.” His words were soft but heartfelt, the love he felt for the woman next to him echoing in the tiny steel chamber. He kissed her, a kiss born of love and devotion, and Faith’s answering sigh against his lips told him more than anything she could ever say.
When she pulled back, her trademark smirk was in place and her eyes gleamed with mischief, a look that usually spelled trouble for Angel. “Let me guess, Tilt-A-Whirl next followed by corndogs and cotton candy?”
She grinned and smacked a kiss on his cheek. “You know me so well.” The ride gave a shuddering groan-Angel issuing a similar noise in response-and began spinning, Faith laughing as her dark hair whipped around in a flurry. “Gotta live a little, baby,” she shouted as the ride picked up speed and Angel’s stomach leapt to his throat.
The torture finally ended-Marcus’s hot pokers were not as painful as those thirty seconds-and Angel stumbled off the attraction, unsure that even his love for Faith could entice him onto another ride. Then Faith’s hand slid down his back, barely grazing his ass. Maybe he could be tempted onto another death trap. Maybe.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the nearest food stand. “Let’s go, Faith. Cotton candy is waiting.”
Her answering laugh was all he needed.
Author: southernbangel
Pairing: Angel/Faith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Angel, Faith, a carnival. Which of these items does not belong?
Author's Notes: Written for thenyxie for the Fluff-A-Thon. (Nothing like being late for my own ficathon. I rule.) thenyxie, I am so very sorry for being so late.
The sickly sweet aroma of cotton candy warred with the scent of human sweat, assaulting Angel as he and Faith stepped onto the fairgrounds. He inwardly recoiled at the garish lights of the various attractions, the loud, tinny music barely drowning out the heartbeats of the teeming masses of people. Children darted between the two, one enthusiastic young girl nearly taking Angel out at the knees with a gigantic stuffed teddy bear.
“Sorry, mistah,” she cried as she chased after three older children, nothing more than a passing glance over her shoulder as she followed her friends.
Angel rubbed his left knee and winced as a particularly loud announcement sounded just behind him. The words were nearly incomprehensible through the static, but Faith understood as she grabbed Angel’s hand and began dragging him toward the large center stage.
“C’mon, baby! They’re about to hold the pie-eating contest. This you have to see. They’d probably put Spike to shame.” Faith paused for a moment and then shook her head. “Nah, even Spike’s complete lack of manners would disgust these people, and I’m not even talking about the fact he drinks O-Pos rather than O.J.”
Angel followed behind her, the secure grip she had on his hand his link to sanity. He had never been one for crowds-a century or so of complete solitude really stuck with someone-and even now, being surrounded by large groups of people still was not on his list of favorite activities to do on a Saturday night. Spending time with Faith, yes, but preferably that time was spent alone and involved more kissing and less darting in between crowds of strangers.
He barely kept up with Faith, so enthusiastic was she to not miss a moment of the pie-eating contest. They arrived at the center stage, swarming with yet more people, and Angel barely suppressed a groan as Faith shouldered their way through the crowd toward the front rows. He was sure he had never received such looks of disgust, not even from Xander during his days in Sunnydale. He had the strange thought that if he revealed his game face right now, people would be more upset at the fact that he and Faith were apparently stealing prime seats for the upcoming contest.
There was a reason why Angel stuck to his small group of friends and fellow demons.
After the pie-eating contest--the recent attack by Neratim demons when Angel nearly lost a leg and Spike his head was a less scary event, in Angel’s opinion-he followed Faith to the row of rides circling the outer edges of the carnival. Tilt-A-Whirl, Bump and Bash, The Octopus, The Sizzler, Chair-O-Planes, these were definitely not the rides and attractions Angel experienced at the 1889 Exposition Universelle in Paris. These names did not inspire confidence, but Faith’s elbow in his side quickly made Angel realize that there were worse punishments than being trapped in a tiny metal car hurtling through the air at 100 miles per hour.
Of course Faith would choose The Sizzler as the first ride. As Angel lowered the metal bar and checked and re-checked the meager scrap of fabric known as the safety belt, a frisson of fear raced through him. He could face hordes of demons, scorned gods, a damn dragon, and yet a carnival ride had him contemplating his will and whether he had updated it.
“Relax, big guy. You know the odds of this car flying off and sending us to our deaths?”
“Not helping, Faith,” he said through gritted teeth. Angel relaxed only slightly when Faith slid her arm around his waist, untucking his shirt slightly to lightly tickle his skin.
“Relax,” she repeated. “I promise you’ll be safe, and when we get home I’ll show you thankful I am to have such a big, strong, brave boyfriend,” she said, her voice lowering to the sexy growl that never failed to have Angel looking for the nearest bed.
“I cannot believe you wanted to come here. Faith the Vampire Slayer becoming giddy and child-like at the thought of a carnival and consuming her body weight in cotton candy and, I can barely say it, fried Coke?”
When the sharp retort didn’t come, he glanced over at Faith, and the lack of focus in her eyes told him he had hit a sore spot. He turned to face her, or as much as he could in the tight confines of the car, and grabbed her free hand.
“Hey. Hey, look at me,” he whispered, reaching up to caress her cheek. “I’m sor-“
“There’s nothing to apologize for, A,” she interrupted. “It’s nothin’, just. . . I never had this before, you know? A real childhood with the typical kid things. A dog, a treehouse, go-carts, camping outside with your best friend. . . It’s not how I grew up. We didn’t really get carnivals in Boston but that always seemed like the family thing to do, you know? Mom and Pop take Sally and John to the carnival where the kids ride the Ferris Wheel and eat cotton candy before falling asleep on the car ride home. I always wanted that.” Her voice was a mere whisper by the end of her speech and Angel ached for the pain evident in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Faith. I’m sorry you didn’t have the childhood you should have had, I’m sorry your mother was more concerned with herself than for you, I’m sorry you had to grow up so quickly. However, I can’t be sorry for it all because it’s made you into the strong, confident, sexy, determined woman I love.” His words were soft but heartfelt, the love he felt for the woman next to him echoing in the tiny steel chamber. He kissed her, a kiss born of love and devotion, and Faith’s answering sigh against his lips told him more than anything she could ever say.
When she pulled back, her trademark smirk was in place and her eyes gleamed with mischief, a look that usually spelled trouble for Angel. “Let me guess, Tilt-A-Whirl next followed by corndogs and cotton candy?”
She grinned and smacked a kiss on his cheek. “You know me so well.” The ride gave a shuddering groan-Angel issuing a similar noise in response-and began spinning, Faith laughing as her dark hair whipped around in a flurry. “Gotta live a little, baby,” she shouted as the ride picked up speed and Angel’s stomach leapt to his throat.
The torture finally ended-Marcus’s hot pokers were not as painful as those thirty seconds-and Angel stumbled off the attraction, unsure that even his love for Faith could entice him onto another ride. Then Faith’s hand slid down his back, barely grazing his ass. Maybe he could be tempted onto another death trap. Maybe.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the nearest food stand. “Let’s go, Faith. Cotton candy is waiting.”
Her answering laugh was all he needed.