The Freaks' Guide to Rome 3/?
Apr. 14th, 2004 04:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doyleMore Buffy/Gwen, though it's still barely even preslash yet. Previous parts:
Part One Part Two
Buffy's day job officially started at four in the afternoon. Teresa came straight to training after school, and that gave them an hour of one-on-one work before Paola's bus got in. They were both good kids, rarely blowing off a session, meaning that Buffy was working through a ton of retroactive guilt over her own teenage years. She'd skipped maybe hundreds of training sessions, and she'd only had to walk to the library, not make a sixty-mile round trip four times a week. Giles had suggested getting Paola her own apartment in Rome, pulling some strings to get a school transfer. "No," Buffy had said firmly. "We're not dragging her away from her parents and her friends and making her live in the city by herself, Giles. She's only just turned seventeen, she's younger than Dawn." And he'd sighed and she'd realized that Paola wasn't just a seventeen-year-old girl, not any more. She was a Slayer, and sometimes that might mean leaving all her friends behind, or sending the man she loved to Hell, or dying face down in a stagnant pool beneath the ground.
"Giles, what did we do?" she'd asked, her voice sounding very small.
"What we had to," he'd said. "And everyone who was called will do what they must in their turn."
For now, though, she wanted the two girls to have some kind of normal lives. Go to school, she'd told them, glad that their English was better than her Italian. Shop. Watch Indian musicals with your friends, because you'll wake up one day and you'll still love them and they'll still love you but you won't be close like you were. Date cute boys, but check for a pulse first.
"Okay, that was good," she said, steadying the punching bag. "Weight on your left this time." The radio was blasting out some trashy Europop. Teresa bopped along, timing her kicks to the beat.
"Is this even music?" Buffy asked over the noise, and actually felt the karma hit her from a great, great height. "Oh, God. I'm Giles. I'm the girl-Giles." She looked fearfully at her t-shirt and workout pants. "Are these turning tweedy?"
"I'd have to take a closer look, but they seem okay."
Teresa spun around, fists up. That's my girl, Buffy thought. "It's okay. She's… a friend."
"More an associate," Gwen said. She'd lost the S&M look. Today it was This Year's Mime, black pants and a turtleneck in the same colour. And gloves, again, also black.
"Take a break for ten minutes," Buffy told her pupil. "I didn't know we were doing this today," she said, turning to Gwen, "or that you even knew where we were. But I guess, spy."
"Thief, actually. You were the one with the surveillance equipment at dinner."
Teresa was staring at them both, fascinated gaze going from one to the other and back. "Teresa, go to the locker room for ten minutes, okay? Or take a walk outside. I need to talk to Gwen."
"Aw," Gwen said, when Teresa had done as she was told, "I thought I was going to see her in action."
Something about the way she said it got Buffy's defences up. "I'm a Slayer," she said, remembering this time not to say 'the'. "You can see me in action."
Gwen pushed herself backwards and up to sit on the vaulting horse. "Do I have to buy you dinner first?"
She smiled at the lameness. Like a tiny bit of innuendo was going to throw her off. She knew Faith and Spike, for…
Known. She'd known Spike. And she'd been doing so well, vocab-wise.
A demonstration meant she didn't have to talk, so she flung herself into a couple of minutes of flips and kicks and stakes through the hearts of imaginary opponents. One last somersault brought her back to where she'd started, not breathing heavily, heartbeat hardly above normal.
"Not bad," Gwen said.
"It looks more impressive when I'm actually fighting somebody," she said. "With just me, it's more Shaolin Temple than Crouching Tiger."
"Huh." She hopped to the floor. "What is this place, anyway? Converted warehouse?"
"Yep. Clothes and soft furnishings, I think. Want a tour?"
It didn't take very long. There was only the main training room, with its punchbags and vampire-shaped mannequins (the heart handily Xed), and the small locker room where she and the girls changed.
"No shower," Gwen observed.
"Something about licensing permits. We're getting one put in." It didn't matter much to her, home only being a five minute walk away. Two minute run, if she was really stinky. She felt for Paola, though, stuck in her clothes the whole ride home.
She was sure Gwen was about to make a smutty insinuation about her showering along with the girls - Faith would have, and she was starting to default to thinking of Gwen as Faith's tall, sophisticated big sister - but she just looked around and nodded, and Buffy led the way back into the training room.
"I did some reading on Slayers, and it didn't say anything about the older ones training the new kids on the block."
She tried not to have a spasm of 'eek!' at being labelled older. "It's kind of a new policy."
"Actually," Gwen went on, "I thought the Slayer had to die before another one could come along."
"Again, there have been a couple of changes. It'd all be in our company handbook, if we had a handbook." No handbook, please, had been one of her first requests as a senior member of the new council. We can have suggestions, we can have policies, we can have team bonding exercises if we have to, just no handbook.
She checked her watch. Ten minutes were up. More like fifteen. Teresa was off somewhere dawdling and being a slacking teenager, and if that happened again Buffy was going to get a pair of glasses and she was going to clean them at her. Really hard.
"Was that all you wanted to know?" she asked, a little awkwardly. She didn't want to offend this person who could get back valuable things.
Gwen shrugged. "Sure. Just curious, that's all. I'd heard rumours about Slayers. Thought it sounded lonely, being the only one."
"It was," she said. "It is." That was something Gwen couldn't understand, even if whatever sources she had got her the whole History Channel's Biography of Buffy. Being the Slayer, even if there were two of you, even if there were two thousand, meant being alone.
"See you around, then," Gwen said. "I'm getting the books on Tuesday. Want me to drop them off at your place or is there somewhere I should take them to?"
She blinked in surprise. "Wow, you work fast."
"See previous, buying you dinner first." The smile in her voice and her eyes softened it.
"My apartment's fine," she said, smiling herself. "I assume you know where that is?"
"That's my job." She glanced behind them. "And yours just got back. See you on Tuesday."
"Bye," she said, beckoning Paola and Teresa in.
"Oh, and Buffy…"
She looked around. Gwen dropped forward onto one hand, the other outstretched for balance, and easily swung her legs over, tucking her body neatly so she came up for a perfect landing, feet planted square on the rubber mat. The flip was as graceful and careless as any Buffy had ever seen in trained gymnasts. "Tuesday," Gwen said again, and walked out the door.
Part One Part Two
Buffy's day job officially started at four in the afternoon. Teresa came straight to training after school, and that gave them an hour of one-on-one work before Paola's bus got in. They were both good kids, rarely blowing off a session, meaning that Buffy was working through a ton of retroactive guilt over her own teenage years. She'd skipped maybe hundreds of training sessions, and she'd only had to walk to the library, not make a sixty-mile round trip four times a week. Giles had suggested getting Paola her own apartment in Rome, pulling some strings to get a school transfer. "No," Buffy had said firmly. "We're not dragging her away from her parents and her friends and making her live in the city by herself, Giles. She's only just turned seventeen, she's younger than Dawn." And he'd sighed and she'd realized that Paola wasn't just a seventeen-year-old girl, not any more. She was a Slayer, and sometimes that might mean leaving all her friends behind, or sending the man she loved to Hell, or dying face down in a stagnant pool beneath the ground.
"Giles, what did we do?" she'd asked, her voice sounding very small.
"What we had to," he'd said. "And everyone who was called will do what they must in their turn."
For now, though, she wanted the two girls to have some kind of normal lives. Go to school, she'd told them, glad that their English was better than her Italian. Shop. Watch Indian musicals with your friends, because you'll wake up one day and you'll still love them and they'll still love you but you won't be close like you were. Date cute boys, but check for a pulse first.
"Okay, that was good," she said, steadying the punching bag. "Weight on your left this time." The radio was blasting out some trashy Europop. Teresa bopped along, timing her kicks to the beat.
"Is this even music?" Buffy asked over the noise, and actually felt the karma hit her from a great, great height. "Oh, God. I'm Giles. I'm the girl-Giles." She looked fearfully at her t-shirt and workout pants. "Are these turning tweedy?"
"I'd have to take a closer look, but they seem okay."
Teresa spun around, fists up. That's my girl, Buffy thought. "It's okay. She's… a friend."
"More an associate," Gwen said. She'd lost the S&M look. Today it was This Year's Mime, black pants and a turtleneck in the same colour. And gloves, again, also black.
"Take a break for ten minutes," Buffy told her pupil. "I didn't know we were doing this today," she said, turning to Gwen, "or that you even knew where we were. But I guess, spy."
"Thief, actually. You were the one with the surveillance equipment at dinner."
Teresa was staring at them both, fascinated gaze going from one to the other and back. "Teresa, go to the locker room for ten minutes, okay? Or take a walk outside. I need to talk to Gwen."
"Aw," Gwen said, when Teresa had done as she was told, "I thought I was going to see her in action."
Something about the way she said it got Buffy's defences up. "I'm a Slayer," she said, remembering this time not to say 'the'. "You can see me in action."
Gwen pushed herself backwards and up to sit on the vaulting horse. "Do I have to buy you dinner first?"
She smiled at the lameness. Like a tiny bit of innuendo was going to throw her off. She knew Faith and Spike, for…
Known. She'd known Spike. And she'd been doing so well, vocab-wise.
A demonstration meant she didn't have to talk, so she flung herself into a couple of minutes of flips and kicks and stakes through the hearts of imaginary opponents. One last somersault brought her back to where she'd started, not breathing heavily, heartbeat hardly above normal.
"Not bad," Gwen said.
"It looks more impressive when I'm actually fighting somebody," she said. "With just me, it's more Shaolin Temple than Crouching Tiger."
"Huh." She hopped to the floor. "What is this place, anyway? Converted warehouse?"
"Yep. Clothes and soft furnishings, I think. Want a tour?"
It didn't take very long. There was only the main training room, with its punchbags and vampire-shaped mannequins (the heart handily Xed), and the small locker room where she and the girls changed.
"No shower," Gwen observed.
"Something about licensing permits. We're getting one put in." It didn't matter much to her, home only being a five minute walk away. Two minute run, if she was really stinky. She felt for Paola, though, stuck in her clothes the whole ride home.
She was sure Gwen was about to make a smutty insinuation about her showering along with the girls - Faith would have, and she was starting to default to thinking of Gwen as Faith's tall, sophisticated big sister - but she just looked around and nodded, and Buffy led the way back into the training room.
"I did some reading on Slayers, and it didn't say anything about the older ones training the new kids on the block."
She tried not to have a spasm of 'eek!' at being labelled older. "It's kind of a new policy."
"Actually," Gwen went on, "I thought the Slayer had to die before another one could come along."
"Again, there have been a couple of changes. It'd all be in our company handbook, if we had a handbook." No handbook, please, had been one of her first requests as a senior member of the new council. We can have suggestions, we can have policies, we can have team bonding exercises if we have to, just no handbook.
She checked her watch. Ten minutes were up. More like fifteen. Teresa was off somewhere dawdling and being a slacking teenager, and if that happened again Buffy was going to get a pair of glasses and she was going to clean them at her. Really hard.
"Was that all you wanted to know?" she asked, a little awkwardly. She didn't want to offend this person who could get back valuable things.
Gwen shrugged. "Sure. Just curious, that's all. I'd heard rumours about Slayers. Thought it sounded lonely, being the only one."
"It was," she said. "It is." That was something Gwen couldn't understand, even if whatever sources she had got her the whole History Channel's Biography of Buffy. Being the Slayer, even if there were two of you, even if there were two thousand, meant being alone.
"See you around, then," Gwen said. "I'm getting the books on Tuesday. Want me to drop them off at your place or is there somewhere I should take them to?"
She blinked in surprise. "Wow, you work fast."
"See previous, buying you dinner first." The smile in her voice and her eyes softened it.
"My apartment's fine," she said, smiling herself. "I assume you know where that is?"
"That's my job." She glanced behind them. "And yours just got back. See you on Tuesday."
"Bye," she said, beckoning Paola and Teresa in.
"Oh, and Buffy…"
She looked around. Gwen dropped forward onto one hand, the other outstretched for balance, and easily swung her legs over, tucking her body neatly so she came up for a perfect landing, feet planted square on the rubber mat. The flip was as graceful and careless as any Buffy had ever seen in trained gymnasts. "Tuesday," Gwen said again, and walked out the door.
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no subject
on 2004-04-16 02:43 am (UTC)Hee!
And I love that they are showing off for each other. What a fun story this is!
no subject
on 2004-04-16 05:28 am (UTC)