I got distracted from this by the excellent Bill Bailey on television, and decided that it was time I posted another episode.
Dawn In Rome Part Three
Usual disclaimers as in earlier parts. Joss and Mr Ball own everything; I own nothing except my slippers.
Post slash and vague lusting – action sequences and more sexiness next time.
I suffer from the delusion that I get away with things. I don’t know why, when experience is against me.
I suppose it is the shop-lifting period and the long time in which I never got caught, most of which, of course, never happened.
So, first, Andrew is in the car back to the apartment, and is dying to have a girlie chat about what he just saw, only he can’t because of his whole ‘I’m straight, goddam it, straight’ thing.
I told Kennedy it was a James Bond thing, and that’s probably part of it, because he is such a big movie geek. Actually, I realize, because he is doing the stiff mouth thing and trying to sound ever more like Masterpiece Theatre, and wearing glasses he doesn’t need, and maybe touching up his hair, it’s a Wesley thing. He is trying to be Wesley, the way he used to try and be Spike.
He does know Wesley does boys sometimes, doesn’t he?
Willow thinks so anyway, or that’s what she told Kennedy, and Kennedy told me the other day. Apparently there is this cool black guy works for Angel, and this scientist chick with brains even Willow thinks are enormous, and Willow said, apparently, that when she was down there a year ago, you could cut the air with a knife.
And Faith said something similar, come to that. Which means two chances for gaydar to get things right.
Well, Andrew’s seen him more recently, so maybe hanging round Angel gave Wesley a straight epiphany or something. Yeah, right.
Typical of Andrew, though, to pick a big bi ho for his straight role model.
But hey! looks like I can’t talk any more.
Do they hand out a rule book, or do I have to wing this?
I really am not looking forward to having that chat with my sister.
Only when I see Buffy, I don’t get the chance because she is in one of her ‘you get kidnapped one more time and the Council will take it out of your salary’ moods.
It really does not help when I try to point out that this particular abduction had nothing to do with demons and vampires, because she had to negotiate with Wolfram and Hart and Upholstery Woman to get me back anyway.
After a bit, she says ‘So what’s Celeste like anyway? I didn’t like her last album as much.’
That confirms my sense that Celeste sucks as a diva. Because Buffy’s taste in music? Not good.
I think of throwing in a comment like ‘ Well, her albums suck, but she is a really good kisser’ and then I realize I actually said it.
Because Buffy says ‘Oh, very funny.’ And I remember that I have a sister without a clue.
The woman who slept through Willow’s coming out crisis; the woman who thinks Spike and Angel were only ever enemies who screwed the same woman.
I am so not going to do this.
I’ve heard Willow do that embarrassing scene at parties too often. Does Buffy even know it’s her party piece whenever Buffy is out of the room? Funniest coming out scene evvah.
And then Kennedy comes into the room and I stop thinking about Buffy because she looks at me like she always does, and I just know that I want her now as much as she wants me, and I can’ wait to tell her.
Only maybe I shouldn’t share about Celeste straight away.
Because maybe I am a bit of a big ho myself now, and I need to process that.
So I say, ‘Kennedy, I need coffee. Now.’
As a way of leaving the room with my sister in it before jumping all over my girlfriend, because that is what Kennedy is, now, as of this moment.
As Andrew would say these days – Gosh.
Though, and this is why it would be too much information to share about her, there is a rebellious slut in me that says, well sure, but can’t we find a way to have Celeste as well? Because she is only marginally more annoying than Kennedy and almost as hot.
Anyway, once we are outside, I shove Kennedy up against the nearest wall, because while I may not have Slayer strength, I have tall girl pouncing leverage, and I dip my face into hers like I was hungry for her soul.
Only, of course, this moment of the ultra-butch is really really ill-timed because Kennedy just got back from the dentist and goes ‘Ow, ow’ like a big girl.
I jump back and get all flustered and go ‘sorrysorrysorry’ and ‘I am a bad girlfriend.’
And she says ‘Did you say girlfriend?’ and stops going ow at once and has this enormous smile like she just got given chocolate kisses.
I’m sure Celeste will never ring me anyway. What would she see in me except for a convenient way of not eating Wolfram and Hart’s hospitality table?
And I think hot coffee, that’s bad for sore mouths and I drag Kennedy across the hall into the kitchen and sit her down at the table and put the electric kettle on and make her chamomile tea, only without honey because I do think things through sometimes.
‘You’re being so good to me’, Kennedy says in a tone that a few hours ago I would have found sickeningly cute and now just warms me up inside.
And also pings a little bit on my guilt meter.
Which means I probably shouldn’t let this go anywhere very much tonight, because two hot chicks in the same half of the same day – that would go beyond ho all the way into slut.
And it is just as I am handing Kennedy her cup of tea, and thinking things through some more, that the doorbell rings.
And of course Andrew answers it because somehow he is always the one nearest the door.
He shouts down the hall. ‘Dawn, there are lots of flowers here for you and a man who says you have to sign.’
Actually there are about ten men, each of them carrying vases as big as they are, plus a whole bunch of bundles of dried ferns and things and more flowers than I ever saw.
People say someone bought out the florists, but Celeste, she really did it.
Which just about blows it for just saying ‘Celeste and me, we’re sort of buds.’
The men come into the flat and start arranging everything as if they were synchronised – Buffy starts jumping up and down, trying to get their attention to say we have enough flowers thank you very much, but they are doing this intense focus thing. It’s like flower arranging is a martial art, which for all I know it is.
But these guys look Italian.
Kennedy looks at me with a smirk. ‘Something you haven’t told me yet.’
‘Well,’ I say. ‘If you were locked in a room with your own way way cute predatory double…’
‘Oh,’ she says, ‘I’d totally do her.’
‘You’re sure you’re cool…’
‘I guess so. Because it’s totally turned you into an enormous dyke in seconds. Which I’ve been trying to do for days. So respect to Celeste. I guess.’
She looks sort of wistful and sort of turned on at the same time.
‘What is it,’ she says, ‘about women I like and their thing for their evil twin? Everyone assumes that what broke me and Willow up was her going on about Saint Tara all the time, which was vexing, but hey?!.. No, but what really really bugged me was her telling the story about her evil vampire twin, over and over. Willow is really fond of a very few funny stories, you know, and I’ve heard them all, lots.’
‘Oh, I know,’ I say. ‘But you’ve got to admit the one about her trying to come out to my sister is a classic. No matter how many times. Honestly, my sister can be so clueless…’
‘Standing right here,’ says Buffy. And she is.
Then she says, ‘Is there something you two need to tell me?’
‘Well,’ I say, ‘this thing happened when I was at Wolfram and Hart.’
‘The evil lawyers turned you gay?’, says Buffy, and I think she is being sarcastic, only then I realize that she is actually asking a question.
‘No,’ I say. ‘ I’d been thinking about it for days. But there was this thing with Celeste, like I told you. And also, I really like Kennedy. I mean, really really like and she likes me.. Though Celeste sends me flowers, so I guess she likes me too.’
‘ I don’t know,’ Buffy says, in her irritatingly smug what is the world coming to except for me voice ‘where all this lesbianism suddenly comes from. First there was Willow and Tara, and now there’s you and godknows who, and Rona and Violet apparently, and…’
‘And then,’ I say, because I am not letting her get away with this unscathed, ‘there was you and Faith and how much trouble would you have saved everybody if you’d just slept with her instead of running round town breaking into weapons shops and stabbing each other in the gut? Get a clue, sis.’
She looks all flustered; we’ve so needed to have this conversation before now and I am experiencing it as huge relief.
‘Oh don’t tell me you don’t know,’ I say. ‘Like I say, clueless.’
And then the phone rings, the big red phone that connects us with Watcher Central.
Giles really isn’t happy.
Because all his computer links went down half an hour ago, and when they went up again, all of them were plugged into a looped video feed of me and Celeste, from a lot of artistic angles.
And then he checks, and it’s all over the net. Like Paris Hilton or something.
I never get away with anything.