Secret Slasha — The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha — The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

The Desolate Are Happier
By Voleuse
For A Secret Slasha Dropout

i. in the hatred of a minute

After the homecoming queens are crowned, Faith punches B in the shoulder and leaves her to her adoring Scoobies. Cordelia, aside from accepting an awkward hug from Xander, stalks out of the room like she's going to stake the next person smiles.

Faith follows her out the door, into a shadowed alley. "Not a good idea, Cor."

Cordelia spins on her stiletto heel, scowling. "It's not like I'm alone." She gestures widely, indicating the crowds still lingering yards away.

"That's never stopped a vamp before." Faith strolls forward, stops a foot away from her. "You know that."

"What I know," Cordelia says, leaning in, "is that the only problem I have tonight are idiots like them, and skanks like you."

"That's sweet." Faith reaches up, catches her fingers in Cordelia's hair.

"I don't have time for this," Cordelia says, but she shivers when Faith traces her ear.

"I can be quick," Faith replies. She closes the distance, darts her tongue against Cordelia's bottom lip. "You know that."

"Xander wants to go get doughnuts," Cordelia says.

Faith is already pulling up her skirt.


ii. you sorrow for my fate

Faith climbs in Cordelia's bedroom window just as Cordelia slides into bed. Cordelia's wearing a tank top, but the bandage around her abdomen is bulky beneath it.

"That must have hurt," Faith observes, and she means it.

"Yeah." Cordelia pats the bandage, and for a second, all Faith can see is a ghost-wash of blood. "How'd you guess?"

Faith shrugs the sarcasm off. "I've been stabbed before." Cordelia raises an eyebrow, but Faith ignores it, slides into the room. "Wanna see my scars?"

"God, scars," Cordelia says. "Daddy won't even book me with a decent plastic surgeon. I don't know why he's going all cheapskate on me."

Faith clambers onto the bed, boots and all. "Poor Cordy." She pulls the bedsheets down, then tugs on the hem of Cordelia's boxer shorts. "You don't have stitches or anything, right?"

Cordelia frowns at her, but raises her hips slightly, wriggling until the fabric slips down her thighs. "Not anymore. The doctor said I just need to take it easy for a while." She hooks her fingers into her panties, and pushes down until Faith takes over.

"Good idea," Faith responds. "You should try not to move."

When she dips her head down, between, Cordelia gasps.

But she stays completely still.


iii. years of love have been forgot

It's only after the Mayor gets Faith a fancy apartment that Cordelia asks to go to Faith's motel room.

They're curled around each other in Cordelia's jacuzzi, in the middle of the night, and for once Cordelia won't meet Faith's eyes. "Daddy's having some furniture movers in," she says, "and I think they're knocking down a wall or something."

Faith wraps her hand around Cordelia's ankle. "That sucks."

"A lot," Cordelia emphasizes. She hooks her other leg around Faith's waist. "So we could go to your gross motel room." She pauses, wrinkles her nose. "They wash the sheets there, right?"

"I guess," Faith murmurs. "But..."

Cordelia pulls back. "But what?"

"I bounced." Faith kisses Cordelia's shoulder, circles a thumb around her nipple, through her bikini top. "Too many losers, so I got a new place."

"Really?" Cordelia's voice cuts out in the middle of the word, breathy. "How?"

"I, um." Faith had a story all worked out, something about a rich vamp and a pawn shop. She can't think of the particulars because Cordelia's pulling off her bikini. "I got some money."

Cordelia presses her hand between Faith's legs, slipping underneath plain panties. "So we'll go to a new place."

Faith squirms, thinks of the Mayor and his disappointment, then tries really hard not to think about that. Not when Cordy's twisting fingers inside her, not when she's got her mouth on Cordy's tits.

"Bad idea," she murmurs against skin. "Couldn't we go somewhere else?"

"Where?" Cordelia asks. She punctuates her question with a bite, teeth blunt against Faith's ear. "I swore off the janitor's closet months ago."

"Your car or something," Faith manages. She shifts, and Cordelia straddles her thigh. "We'll find somewhere else."

"Right." There's doubt in Cordelia's voice, but she doesn't stop.

And if her stare is suspicious, Faith doesn't notice.

She's already closing her eyes.