4:26 AM, Eastern Standard Time
by Padre

The kitchen island came with the condo; in fact, for Buffy, it was one of the main selling points. Long in nature, with a marble top, it also came with an elevated section for eating and electrical outlets that could adequately power several small appliances. It sharply reminded her of former home in Sunnydale. Matching stools from a Pier 1 made for just the perfect touch.

Faith liked the condo because it was right on South Beach. It's not that she didn't like her time in Rome ("It can be wicked cool, you know, sometimes") but Miami was a way better fit for the restless Bostonian. She found the weather more to her liking. If she wasn't wearing leather at the clubs, Faith usually padded around barefoot and clad only in a skimpy bikini.

It was a clothing choice that Buffy did not mind in the least.

But, in time, the kitchen island grew on Faith as well. She avoided the coffee table in from of the TV and almost never sat at the formal dining room table. She much preferred to sit at the island and eat.

Which was what she was going to do right after she finished frying up some bacon and having it with a couple scrambled eggs. She still couldn't decide if she wanted toast or, while the grill was on, having a few pancakes. After a second of musing, she pulled a box of pancake/waffle mix from the pantry, giving evidence of her choice.

While fishing through the fridge for eggs and milk, she heard Buffy's soft footsteps coming in from the bedroom. A smile crossed her face: despite her protestations to the contrary, B was always up for a good meal.

And a good slay, too, among other things.

"Mmmm, smells tasty." The blonde slayer said, her voice still heavy with sleep. "Got more?"

"For you, B, anything you want," Faith began, "but you've only got a choice of bacon, eggs or pancakes." She stood up and gazed at Buffy. "What would you like?"

Buffy, who, like Faith, was barefoot, wearing cotton panties and a thin-strap tank-top, mounted up on one of the island's stools and stared at her Lover. After jutting out her lower lip, she said, "Can I have my eggs over-easy?"

"Sure, thing. You want some bacon, too? I can throw in a few extra strips. It won't take long."

"Yeah. That sounds very workable."

Faith added the extra strips to the frying pan. Once satisfied that all was progressing well, she turned her attention to making the batter.

As was her nature when in the kitchen, Faith worked in silence. While never one for lengthy conversation, when focused on a task that she enjoyed, like cooking, Faith actually rivaled Oz on the Not-Talk-O-Meter. After a great deal of time and patience, Buffy had grown accustomed to this facet of Faith's personality. The loving closeness that the two slayer's shared often eliminated the need for speaking; words and their like often became burdensome and unnecessary.

While she watched Faith make breakfast for the two of them, Buffy found herself musing on their history after the Fall of Sunnydale: the initial hook-up, The Fight, Buffy's fling with The Immortal. It took the tragedy of Angel's death to bring them together. Things had remained unchanged ever since.

Whether it had been the intense woolgathering or her desire to return to bed, Buffy had not noticed the passage of time. Faith was talking to her.

"B? B!"


"How many pancakes?"

"Oh, two, please."

"Would you get the syrup of for us?"


Buffy not only got out the syrup, but also took it upon herself to get out the plates and silverware. She looked to Faith. "Juice?"

"Only if you are."

"Well, I am. I have an urge."

Faith smiled as Buffy went to the cupboard and pulled out two glasses. "You have many urges."

Buffy walked over to Faith and gently kissed her on the lips. "No. Only one." Her hazel eyes revealed her earnestness.

"Good to know." Faith replied with a lip-curling smirk.

With a grin, Buffy turned back toward the island and finished pouring the juice. Then, while setting up the island for eating, Faith started pulling the eggs from the stove and plating up the meal.

"Oh, this is gonna be good."

"Yeah, B, it is."


In time the meal was consumed with some relish. Buffy then set about putting the dishes in the dishwasher while Faith concentrated on cleaning the griddle. Once all the housekeeping was done, Buffy turned to Faith. "It's still really early. Now what?"

Faith lifted her tank-top and rubbed her belly. "Oh, I'm all carb'd out and wicked tired now, B. I'm going back to bed."

The blonde came up to the brunette. "Would you rub my belly, too?"

"Sure thing, B."

Once they were back in bed, the smaller slayer cuddled up close to her lover. After entangled her bare feet with Faith's, Buffy said, "Thank you for breakfast. It was special."

Faith leaned slightly forward and engaged Buffy in a long and deep kiss. "You're welcomed. You're worth it."

Within no time, the two slayers were fast asleep.


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