Together Flying High (Faith/Giles, PG13)
Firstly, carlyinrome wrote me Gwen/Saffron, which is short and perfect. If you like temporary ceasefires among wickedly interesting thieves, you should go and read it. Not least because I'm the only commenter and that is *not* right.
Secondly, fic from me. Indulging myself again with a little more Rulesverse. (I noticed I've missed some comment replies on the previous fic, btw - going to fix that right now.) Probably the last of this set, so I can stop trawling for cheesy wing lyrics as titles.
Title Together Flying High
Author Brutti ma buoni
Pairing Faith/Giles
Rating PG13. Sweary Faith, nothing else.
Words 850
Setting in the Rulesverse, January 2006. This is fairly shortly before Faith takes that long term job in Mongolia, though she doesn't yet know that's an option. Itchy feet, though.
A/N: This is the third and probably last ficlet in the Faith/Giles Pylea wing!fic series, following Learn to Fly and Higher than an Eagle.
Patrol was different, that was for sure.
Faith swooped meditatively over the battlements of the gigantic castle she was calling home right now. Totally different vibe to the gigantic castle she usually called home. This was Pylea, with enemies and green horny guys everywhere (even if they'd stopped shooting at the Slayers now they'd become some kind of liberating army of good. Faith always seemed to end up part of a liberating army of good. Sometimes, she wondered how exactly that happened. Didn't really fit her style).
Plus, she'd never seen the Council's castle from above, and this place looked pretty damn impressive even in the gathering dusk. Maybe they could rent a helicopter in Scotland and gloat about their castle. It had towers, probably bigger than this. Totally a cooler castle than the Pyleans had.
Focus, Faith. Focus. Patrol, remember?
But it was tough to focus, now that the dangerous mission-y part was over. One last night in this place, then the long flight back to their starting point at the portal site. Then home, assuming Dawn's mojo worked its usual magic.
Faith felt… well. Lots of things.
Tired and itchy because the mission-y part hadn't been as fight-heavy as expected, and with the extra Slayers on the team she'd barely got her stabbity on. The ultra-democrat Pylean government liked committees more than battles. So did the Council, officially, but Faith… well. Yeah. She officially liked the grinding democratic process too. But killing shit was quicker and more satisfying. And killing shit as part of a liberating army of good came without all that pesky guilt she'd been working through ever since Sunnydale. So, yeah, she'd been looking forward to the killing-shit part of this mission. She twitched her shoulders, irritably, trying to shake the ache, and, "Holy fuck," almost wriggled herself out of the sky.
(The wings were awesome. But she needed to, yanno, remember they were part of her.)
Thinking about her feelings was way down on Faith's list of favourite stuff to do. But the things she liked more (drinking, fucking, talking with G) would come later, or (killing shit) not at all tonight, unless this patrol got a whole lot more interesting than the last three had been. So thinking about feelings was at least passing the time.
Losing the wings was gonna burn. Okay, she'd be better on the flat, could spin and kick the way she did on Earth with grace and ease. And when patrolling she wouldn't risk plummeting out of the sky when she got distracted, sure. But these wings were so… She couldn't find a better word than beautiful. They just fit, perfectly Faith. On Earth, she was gonna go looking for something that reminded her of the wings; some kind of heavy black fabric, shot with shiny pink and green… No. No, that wasn't gonna work. Nothing would be perfect like these were. She flexed, and soared, loving the power of the wings. Saying goodbye already.
Seemed like all Slayers had this power in Pylea. And it was so much simpler than human Slayer power. Wings weren't good or bad, wings just were. What you did with 'em, that was up to you. Which was true of Slayerness too, but it was harder to see it so clearly, when the powers were just a part of your inner self. The wings were easy.
Too much thinking. Action needed. She checked her watch, and found it was almost shift change. (Wow, that had been a lot of brain work. No wonder she was feeling so crappy at the end of it.)
She called down to Francine, who was coming up on watch next, and enjoyed the sight of her relief guard soaring into the sky. Frankie had mostly white wings, with red flashes. Fairly cool. (Faith's were better.)
The next part was the best, though. Faith had nearly perfected the necessary swoop and glide path, coming into land on the narrow window ledge of their own room. Almost no wobble as she raised one hand to rap sharply on the glass. The world's shortest commute, for one last night.
Giles opened the casement. He had that look, the one about being so pleased to see her he was afraid it showed. Which it did, and she liked, though she'd never told him so.
She was loving the way he enjoyed her wings. The whole joint mission thing, too. He should get into the field more. Maybe she could get him to come with, next time she left headquarters. Had a feeling it might be longer this time. Seemed like time for Faith to get her hands dirty again. Only thing keeping her back right now was Giles, and that didn't sit well.
But tonight, it was still the two of them, wrapped in her wings. A few more hours to enjoy, and Faith was going to make the most of it.
Giles caught her eye, and laughed. "Yes. I thought you had plans for tonight." He ran one finger lightly along the centre of her left wing, and the shiver that followed shook them both.
"I'll miss these." He said it, as she thought it.
Leaving Pylea was going to suck.
**
Secondly, fic from me. Indulging myself again with a little more Rulesverse. (I noticed I've missed some comment replies on the previous fic, btw - going to fix that right now.) Probably the last of this set, so I can stop trawling for cheesy wing lyrics as titles.
Title Together Flying High
Author Brutti ma buoni
Pairing Faith/Giles
Rating PG13. Sweary Faith, nothing else.
Words 850
Setting in the Rulesverse, January 2006. This is fairly shortly before Faith takes that long term job in Mongolia, though she doesn't yet know that's an option. Itchy feet, though.
A/N: This is the third and probably last ficlet in the Faith/Giles Pylea wing!fic series, following Learn to Fly and Higher than an Eagle.
Patrol was different, that was for sure.
Faith swooped meditatively over the battlements of the gigantic castle she was calling home right now. Totally different vibe to the gigantic castle she usually called home. This was Pylea, with enemies and green horny guys everywhere (even if they'd stopped shooting at the Slayers now they'd become some kind of liberating army of good. Faith always seemed to end up part of a liberating army of good. Sometimes, she wondered how exactly that happened. Didn't really fit her style).
Plus, she'd never seen the Council's castle from above, and this place looked pretty damn impressive even in the gathering dusk. Maybe they could rent a helicopter in Scotland and gloat about their castle. It had towers, probably bigger than this. Totally a cooler castle than the Pyleans had.
Focus, Faith. Focus. Patrol, remember?
But it was tough to focus, now that the dangerous mission-y part was over. One last night in this place, then the long flight back to their starting point at the portal site. Then home, assuming Dawn's mojo worked its usual magic.
Faith felt… well. Lots of things.
Tired and itchy because the mission-y part hadn't been as fight-heavy as expected, and with the extra Slayers on the team she'd barely got her stabbity on. The ultra-democrat Pylean government liked committees more than battles. So did the Council, officially, but Faith… well. Yeah. She officially liked the grinding democratic process too. But killing shit was quicker and more satisfying. And killing shit as part of a liberating army of good came without all that pesky guilt she'd been working through ever since Sunnydale. So, yeah, she'd been looking forward to the killing-shit part of this mission. She twitched her shoulders, irritably, trying to shake the ache, and, "Holy fuck," almost wriggled herself out of the sky.
(The wings were awesome. But she needed to, yanno, remember they were part of her.)
Thinking about her feelings was way down on Faith's list of favourite stuff to do. But the things she liked more (drinking, fucking, talking with G) would come later, or (killing shit) not at all tonight, unless this patrol got a whole lot more interesting than the last three had been. So thinking about feelings was at least passing the time.
Losing the wings was gonna burn. Okay, she'd be better on the flat, could spin and kick the way she did on Earth with grace and ease. And when patrolling she wouldn't risk plummeting out of the sky when she got distracted, sure. But these wings were so… She couldn't find a better word than beautiful. They just fit, perfectly Faith. On Earth, she was gonna go looking for something that reminded her of the wings; some kind of heavy black fabric, shot with shiny pink and green… No. No, that wasn't gonna work. Nothing would be perfect like these were. She flexed, and soared, loving the power of the wings. Saying goodbye already.
Seemed like all Slayers had this power in Pylea. And it was so much simpler than human Slayer power. Wings weren't good or bad, wings just were. What you did with 'em, that was up to you. Which was true of Slayerness too, but it was harder to see it so clearly, when the powers were just a part of your inner self. The wings were easy.
Too much thinking. Action needed. She checked her watch, and found it was almost shift change. (Wow, that had been a lot of brain work. No wonder she was feeling so crappy at the end of it.)
She called down to Francine, who was coming up on watch next, and enjoyed the sight of her relief guard soaring into the sky. Frankie had mostly white wings, with red flashes. Fairly cool. (Faith's were better.)
The next part was the best, though. Faith had nearly perfected the necessary swoop and glide path, coming into land on the narrow window ledge of their own room. Almost no wobble as she raised one hand to rap sharply on the glass. The world's shortest commute, for one last night.
Giles opened the casement. He had that look, the one about being so pleased to see her he was afraid it showed. Which it did, and she liked, though she'd never told him so.
She was loving the way he enjoyed her wings. The whole joint mission thing, too. He should get into the field more. Maybe she could get him to come with, next time she left headquarters. Had a feeling it might be longer this time. Seemed like time for Faith to get her hands dirty again. Only thing keeping her back right now was Giles, and that didn't sit well.
But tonight, it was still the two of them, wrapped in her wings. A few more hours to enjoy, and Faith was going to make the most of it.
Giles caught her eye, and laughed. "Yes. I thought you had plans for tonight." He ran one finger lightly along the centre of her left wing, and the shiver that followed shook them both.
"I'll miss these." He said it, as she thought it.
Leaving Pylea was going to suck.
**