Work Text:
It was weird, heading for Los Angeles knowing that Angel wouldn't be there. But that was the point of going, of course.
The phone call had come on a day when Buffy had just finished an early Doublemeat double-shift, and had come stinkily home to a houseful of... well, Dawn. Possibly Xander, if he got off work early enough and wasn't having one of his experimental man-time poker nights with Clark, John and the other guy with the weird eyes and grabby hands whose name Buffy made it a point to forget.
And that was it.
So when she got a call that started with, "I'm real sorry to bother you but..." in a soft Texas voice, and continued, "But everyone's gone and I have no one to talk to and we're tryin' to find'em but I think they're really gone this time and I'm feeling kinda lonely rattlin' around here...", Buffy waited patiently for the woman to take a breath, then butted in with, "Yeah. I know just how you feel."
It was good to exchange her litany of no-Willow, no-Giles, no-Mom (and that never would change), no-Spike (and that shouldn't be on her list), no-Anya (who was around, but too angry to talk), and no-Tara (who she still mourned freshly, amid all the other losses. But not as often as she should). Exchanging them, admittedly, for Fred's own enumeration of the lost: no-Angel, no-Cordy, no-Wes, no-Lorne... Buffy did indeed know exactly how Fred felt. But Buffy was also used to not having the first three, and she didn't know Lorne from any other non-violent green demon, so it didn't sting the same way.
Having confirmed that it was in fact not a Xander poker night, Buffy deployed her babysitter-extraordinaire to watch Dawn, just this once. (Not ducking sisterly bonding, honestly.) And headed into the big city as fast as her stop-start driving would allow.
*
She knew the Hyperion by rep, but she'd never seen it before. Entering the cavernous half-lit lobby, Buffy felt for a stake, just in case. It felt like a pro-vampire space. Which it was, of course, being Angel's home. But not today. Today there was only a slight woman with long hair tied back, sitting on a huge circular couch in the centre of the room, mournfully regarding a yellow-frosted cupcake.
"Fred?"
The woman jumped up, warm smile blossoming. "You have to be Buffy! Thanks for comin' up so quickly. I guess I sounded a little desperate didn't I? But when my boys are out, and they've been right down in Crenshaw clearing out a nest for the last three days, well, when they're away I get a little... And I bought cupcakes because they're cheerful, right? But now I ate all but the last one and it looks lonely on its own and now I feel kinda bad for it so I don't think cupcake therapy worked out for me and-"
"Yes." Buffy could chatter with the best, once upon a time. Now it was all she could do to jam a little word into Fred's overflowing speech. But it seemed like she should get out at least a second syllable.
"It's so good to finally meet you, and you're not dead anymore which is nice, and you're twice as cute as your picture, a little thinner maybe and... I'm babbling." Fred stopped, abruptly, and blushed.
Buffy smiled. Couldn't help it. "I'd call it making me feel welcome. Which I do."
"Well, that's a sweet thing to say. But you can put your boots in the oven, but that don't make 'em biscuits. I'm a babbler plain and simple."
Buffy thought about trying to find out what boots had to do with anything, but stopped herself. With Fred, she sensed, you didn't want her to go back on herself. The words needed to keep on coming in Fred-order, or you'd get turned around, whirling headlong while groping for meaning and… no. Let it go.
Time to get to work. "So, what do you need from me? What background d'you have on Cordelia's disappearance? Or do you want to focus on Angel? Or how 'bout how are the LA bad guys now Angel Investigations isn't keeping tabs on them?"
*
Fred started a report. With flipcharts and research notes and hectic switching between Cordelia's abandoned car, Angel's likewise abandoned car in a different location, Wolfram and Hart, Angel's impossible vampire-killing son, hotel bills, Phantom Dennis's need for company, and much more. After approaching thirty minutes of solid talking, she stopped dead, marker pen in hand.
"I'm sorry. It would be nice if you could maybe slay a few things while you're here, but we're dealing. Honestly we are. I just- I guess I got lonely. I miss Cordy. She was the only girlfriend I had. And now we all talk work-work-work, I thought… I thought it could be different if I called you. I am so sorry for wastin' your time."
Buffy shrugged. "Hey, no… It's good. I know how you feel. My best friend… she's not around anymore. And my kid sister isn't the same. I miss the girl stuff. Do you want to talk shoes or clothes? Maybe hair? Accessories?"
Fred made a face. "I'm not so good at the girl talk. Cordy was teaching me a little, but I still don't know a lot of stuff. I lost my fashion sense and make-up skills in another dimension and-"
"I bet Cordy got you some, though, right? Cordelia Chase does not let friends live un-made-up."
"Yeah, but it's a little daunting without her. We'd only got through proper training on base and lips when she disappeared. There's a whole eye thing I don't really… And I'm a little scared of poking out my eyeballs on the pencils, to tell the truth."
"That's what I'm here for then. Buffy the Mascara Consultant, to the rescue." They giggled. Okay, it was very, very silly. But Fred was still riding a four-cupcake sugar high, and Buffy had eaten the last survivor to keep her company. Hence, giggling.
Make up is an intimate art. All shared space, fingers touching, right in each other's faces, watching intently. Fred's chatter slowed, even as Buffy talked more, low and encouraging, sharing and teaching.
*
Later… "There, you look gorgeous. Take a bow." Buffy watched with satisfaction as Fred preened in the three-way mirror. She did look truly lovely, though Buffy suspected Fred wouldn't use her tuition all that often. She'd looked great without any primping, all legs and smile when Buffy first saw her.
Fred turned, caught Buffy's admiring eyes, and flushed. Then took up her courage, and reached out for a hug, which turned into a little kiss. A little mouth-meeting kiss, in fact, which sent tingles through Buffy's whole body. Whoa. "I'm so glad you came."
Okay, pass it off. It was nothing. I'm still tingling, but it was nothing. Buffy's subconscious jumped up and bit her. Her conscious was still in denial, and said casually, "Totally welcome. What are girlfriends for?"
Fred checked her watch, suddenly concerned. "You've been so sweet, but I've kept you so late. You want to stay over?"
Eeek! Denial is your friend. Bail, Buffy, bail said the conscious mind part. "Uh… no, it's okay. I run on Slayer time. And I have a shift from nine, so I need to get back to Sunnydale." Fred still looked a little sorry, and Buffy's subconscious was getting pissed, so Buffy followed up with, "Another time, maybe?"
She hadn't known how much she meant it till she said it, but she really did want to see Fred again, freaked or not. So- "Next week? I get off early on Wednesdays. We could make it a regular… thing." I did not just say date. Or think it.
Beaming Fred-smile. "That would be great. Let's make time for girl time!" And Fred kissed her, again. Definitely mouth-on-mouth this time, no error there. And it lingered.
Blinking, they broke apart.
"Okay… Wednesday, then?"
Buffy was fleeing, yes, but she was coming back too. To see what might be seen. And to see Fred.
***