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Fic Meme Ficlets, Flavors of Buffy

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"You got me chocolate?" Buffy asked, looking down at the box. Expensive chocolate, she noted, as she popped a piece in her mouth and moaned softly. "Oh, man, that's good."

"That's one of the things that I've found money is good for," Anya explained. "It can be exchanged for goods and services. In this case, chocolate. Additionally, chocolates are customary for making a good impression on a first date. I'm not stupid, Buffy."

"What about this?" Buffy said, and kissed her. Anya tasted yummy. Or possibly that was the little glaze of chocolate Buffy still had in her mouth, in the cracks of her teeth and the sides of her tongue. Or possibly it was both. Either way, yummy.

Anya mumbled something. "What?" Buffy asked, pulling away.

"Yes," Anya chirped. "Money can be exchanged for sex as well. That's called prostitution; haven't you heard of it before?"

Buffy laughed, and kissed her again, sliding her hands over Anya's arms. "Not interested in buying it," Buffy murmured, kissing Anya's neck. "Although I'm not gonna lie, I want it."

"I'm assuming you mean from me, in which case, no, you certainly don't have to buy it," Anya said, and then her arms were tight around Buffy's waist. "I was also assured that chocolates increased one's chances of getting sex sooner."

"Yep," Buffy agreed, and offered Anya a chocolate before dragging her inside.

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She was filling up the tub, 'cuz she got to it first. "Ha!" she crowed when the door opened, turning on the water and dumping in bubble bath before Greg or Wilson could try to muscle her out. Because, hello, not only was she covered in vampire dust, she was a paramedic, which meant she did way more work than a couple of lame — though admittedly cute — doctors who just wandered around the hospital all day. Heck, Greg was in his office most of the time.

She also wedged herself in the doorway, summoning up enough strength to tense her tired muscles, so that neither of them could get past her.

The guys eyed her for a second, one pair of bright blue eyes and one pair of warm brown ones, and then Wilson tickled her. Which had the effect of reducing her to a giggly mess on the floor.

"Not fair!" she screamed. "Oh my god, you guys are such cheaters."

"Life isn't fair, Buffy," Greg answered calmly, dumping her — fully clothed — into the tub.

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First thing Oz registers, apart from the ground and how he's gained a sense of sight and loss a sense of smell — so, admittedly, not technically first thing, but hey — is that Buffy's there.

"There was demon stuff, so I was up all night anyway," she says, with a tired shrug at him.

"You're going to class now?" he asks.

"Can't not," Buffy answers.

Which pretty much settles it.

She's in her PJs, which is kind of surprising, and changes out of the soft floppy pink things while he's getting dressed. Their backs are to one another and there's the towel hung up to keep either of them from glimpsing anything below the waist, and since they're both about the same height it works pretty effectively.

"Giles'll probably be in soon," she says when they're sitting at the table together, comparing notes from English yesterday, because there's a test on Macbeth today and between demons and lycanthropy neither of them's really got much of a chance to study.

"Cool," he says, and then points to one of the details they'd been looking for.

"Huh," Buffy says, and blinks at the bright morning sunlight.

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Tara made yummy lemon tarts.

Buffy hadn't actually been aware that she liked lemon tarts — that Buffy liked them, anyway, not that Tara liked them, although come to think of it she hadn't actually been aware that Tara liked them either — and honestly she still wasn't actually sure she liked them. But she knew she liked Tara's, because hello to the yum.

"I like picnics," she had said as a hint when she met her one day after class, and when Tara had smiled but not said anything, she had gone on to explain how maybe she wasn't being subtle but just lamely shy, and she was big on carpe-ing the diem so what she was actually trying to do was hint that Tara should ask her out for a picnic.

Anyway, Tara brought the lemon tarts, and Buffy brought the sandwiches, and Dawn brought the sodas and her own sandwich because she didn't trust Buffy not to mess hers up.

Dawn was happier than Buffy had seen her for awhile. Since she'd been back, at least.

So was Tara. Which made Buffy happier than she was already feeling, although for ways that kind of confused her and made her think she was going to have to stay in tonight and consider this.

Which suspicion was later confirmed when Tara, still holding a book in her lap and trying to explain about plant symbolism in the work of some mystic prophet Buffy had never heard of but Tara seemed really excited about, took Buffy's hand in her own.

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Girl keeps her head down, because that's the way you survive, and the longer you survive, the better your chances of getting out will be.

They just make her fight most of the time. Not so bad. It's her against some demon, some vamp, some monster that crawled out from under the bed, and then it's back to the cage, with a chain fastened to her collar again.

She used to have a name. She knows that. Now she's Girl, but she used to have a name. That helps keep her sane, trying to remember it as she sits in the dark, eats the food they give her, and recuperates for the next fight.

One day there is another girl, one with dark hair and dark eyes, and lips that make the Girl think the vamps will want to initiate her the way they did Girl.

"How long you been in?" the new girl asks, tugging at her collar.

Girl shrugs.

"What's the matter, dontcha talk?" the new one says.

Girl grins. "Sometimes," she says. "Not to them. If you're nice, I might to you. Like right now. Keep your head down and do what they say, 'cuz they'll make you miserable if you don't."

"Does it get worse?" the new girl says, looking around with a sneer.

Girl just smiles at her. "Oh yeah," she says, and leans through the bars as far as the chain will let her. "But not for long, because I've got a plan," she whispers.

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He made her antsy.

It wasn't bad enough that she hadn't seen Riley in weeks, and she didn't actually think he even knew that the Initiative had her, that they had done this, that they had done this to her.

They couldn't just keep her locked in a cell. No. They had to give her a new place; some tiny little apartment that she couldn't get out of, with a guard who was jumpy, even if he tried to play it cool all the time, and most of the time, yeah, he succeeded, or thought he did, but for all the badass black-leather one-armed thing, she wasn't really fooled. He was jumpy. He was scared of something, no matter how much he was being paid to do this, because he didn't like to stay in one place.

Also, he didn't want this baby to come. He didn't want her to have the baby, because that would mean he wasn't needed anymore, and that would mean he would have to go back out into the world and back to trying to get away from whatever he was running from.

And that was good, because it gave her something to work with.

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"Baby?" someone said. Kind of whispered, actually, and she managed to open her eyes and make the blurs turn themselves into real shapes. Specifically, Charles shapes.

"Maarghh," Buffy answered.

There was a laugh, and she felt him pick her up. "That fight took it out of you, huh?" he asked quietly.

"Mmhm." He was talking. She thought she understood the words. She was also pretty sure she had responded in the correct manner.

"You did good, though."

"You too."

She hoped there wasn't any more talking that needed to be done. Not much, anyway.

He helped her undress, which was nice. Even the wife-beater was bloody, so she helped him strip that off, too, but neither of them were really feeling like making that into a thing, and instead he just kissed her neck, which was okay with her.

"'Night, baby," he said, turning off the light and kissing her again.

Buffy mumbled something that she thought might've been words. She meant it to be, anyway; it wasn't her fault if it didn't turn out that way.

After a few moments, she thought of what it was she wanted to say. "Love you," she said, or really only moved her lips. Which she was pretty sure he hadn't heard her, except that then he took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips, and she thought she felt his lips move in a "Love you too".

So that, she thought as she fell back to sleep, was okay.

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It was over Hunchback that it had happened. There was a Moment. Will had been in class, and Tara had come over to help her keep an eye on Dawn and they were going to grapple with some Hugo.

And then there had been a Moment, because they had both fallen asleep and Buffy guessed that Tara was just used to, you know, falling asleep with a girl and waking up snuggling with her. Because Buffy had opened her eyes, and Tara's arms were around her and her head was on her shoulder, and she was kind of, like, nuzzling.

Which would have been do-able. You know. It would've been a little weird, but mostly it would've just been funny. A silly story, 'ha ha, Victor Hugo was so boring he made me fake-gay'.

But it couldn't be silly and funny because, well, Buffy had still been half-asleep, or actually mostly asleep, and she had liked it.

Enough that she had gone back to sleep. And snuggled Tara back.

And even knowing that it was going to be a Thing?

She kind of didn't care.

It might've been scary if she hadn't been so sleepy.

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It would have to be done eventually, for they could not reasonably avoid all society forever, much as she would honestly have liked to do.

That did not mean, however, that Lizzie had to look forward to it.

"All right," she said, and began to count off the time. "One, two, three, one two three — "

"Aren't I meant to lead?" her 'husband' complained, and she glowered at him.

"You are indeed meant to," she said. "But as you're no good at this... one, two, three, one, two, three... "

There was no counting needed after awhile.

It was when he turned her on his own, and then she found that his hand on her waist did not feel so very bad after all, that she knew it was time to stop.

It was when she closed her eyes and could still manage to follow, and his hand was tight on her own, that she knew they had gone very much past time to stop.

It was when he stopped that she realised what a danger there had been in this whole charade, for all the time she had been annoyed with Richard Sharpe, she had been able to ignore the fact that she was slowly beginning to like him. And it was then that she realised this, for it was then that he kissed her.