Sunburn
I remember the first time I got burned.
It was when I was about eight. One long, hot summer where a mess of us kids never seemed to leave the quarry. Clambering up rocks, launching ourselves into the water and then basking in the sun. Except I always had to be the toughest, so, I climbed higher, launched faster and basked longer... I think that was when my habit of doing stupid shit kicked in, because I got burned. Bad. My back was one big red mess of flaking, dead skin. And it hurt like a son of a bitch for weeks. Weeks of having to wear loose tops, weeks of people slapping me on the back for a laugh, weeks of not sleeping because I'd roll over onto my back and wake up screaming.
So, yeah, weeks and weeks of living hell because of a burn.
And I think I'm spending too much time around G-Man because I'm getting all philosophical and crap, comparing that to what me and B have. She's the sun. Sure, right now it's cool, we're climbing high, launching fast and basking our little hearts out, but sooner or later I'm gonna get burned. And it's gonna hurt like Hell.
And I know I've been spending too much time around G-Man because I'm getting all philosophical about this in the middle of a fight. Which isn't that big a deal. The slay's been easy, like having a couple dozen backups lurking around takes the edge off. Yeah, the fight's have been easy, it's the plain old living that's hard. We've been doing the whole mystery mobile shtick, sticking together, travelling around, being pesky kids.
And it's been rough. B doesn't want people to know about us. So we've been doing the whole secret deal, which, when you're jammed into hotel rooms and buses like sardines half the time, aint easy. So the looks have gotten furtive, heh, furtive, definitely spending too much time around G-Man... the stolen touches have been getting harder and harder to nab, the sweet nothings have been whispered in short snatches. As it is, patrol is one of the few times we get to be alone, and even then we've got to share it with the vamps.
But they're dust in the wind now. What can I say? Me and B? We kick some serious ass.
But now it's hard. Because we're alone, just me and her. We get to be alone, together, and I can't shut up this stupid voice in my head. 'Is this real for her? Is she more ashamed of you than she was Spike? If they find out is she gonna split? If Angel snaps his fingers will she go-a-running?'
And she laces her fingers, those goddamned fragile, pretty fingers, in mine and speaks. "Merry Christmas Faith."
"Merry Christmas B."
And we kiss. And I'm gonna burn. Goddamn am I gonna burn.