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For Those About To Rock

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Title: For Those About To Rock
Author: Beer Good 
Rating: PG13-ish (some bad language)
Word Count: ~1300
Characters/Pairing: Faith/Willow (established)

For Those About To Rock

Dinner and wine by candlelight is supposed to be romantic. However, when the person you're having romantic dinner with is a Slayer, with all that that implies in terms of appetite, it's also much too easy to get caught up in the shoveling of food from plate to mouth. Consequently Willow had way too much to eat and when they moved to the couch with the last bottle of wine, it took her about thirty seconds to fall asleep on Faith's shoulder.

Some time later, she was jolted awake by the sound of the TV, where a shirtless man was screaming over loud guitar chords about wanting blood. Faith was just putting the remote down after raising the volume to Willow-rousing heights, and resumed stomping the rhythm on the coffee table where the now-empty wine bottle kept edging closer to the edge of the table with each drumbeat.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Oh, hey. About an hour. Scooch a bit." Faith freed her trapped arm and put it around Willow's shoulder, giving her an extra little squeeze in the process but not looking away from the TV.

"What are we watching?"

"AC/DC marathon on VH1."

"Marathon? As in..."

"Four hours straight, baby." Faith grinned like a kid at a mid-winter present-yielding holiday of non-specified denomination.

Willow hadn't really listened to heavy metal since Xander went through that phase in 9th grade, but what the hell, the things we do for love. After rescuing the wine bottle from a short sharp trip to the floor, she cuddled up to share this experience, which obviously meant a lot to Faith. But she had to comment on the lyrics of the next song. "Um... Is that supposed to be a double entendre?"

"A what?"

"Like... he's pretending to sing about ballroom dancing, but it's really about... y'know."

Faith nodded in time to the music. "It's about his balls. They're big," she clarified as if the chorus didn't make that clear.

"That's... what I thought. Not so much with the subtle, these guys, huh? Don't they have any ballads?"

As if on cue, the band started playing a slower song. "This is a ballad, right?" Faith pointed at the lead guitarist. "See, Angus is even standing up for the whole thing."

"Well, yeah, but I mean with acoustic guitars and violins, and the candles and lighters and... Um... what?" Willow frowned and pointed to the TV, where the singer was now screaming lyrics about STDs, and could swear that she actually felt her IQ drop with every passing second. "'She gave me her body, but she gave it to anybody'? Who writes these lyrics, Beavis and Butthead?"

"It's only rock'n'roll, it doesn't need brains. Besides, if you think this is dumb, just wait 'til you get a load of Brian Johnson's lyrics. Bon Scott was a fucking poet."

"But it's just the same three chords over and over and... what?"

"Well..." Faith smirked and gave her a playful shove. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're sort of a wuss. And frankly, your taste in music sucks."

"I'm not! I mean..." Faith shot her a look. "OK, maybe compared to some people I am, but it doesn't! I-I rock, I bop, I've got a kick-ass CD collection, missy!"

"Right. I guess I'm gonna have to be honest here: you have... like, Oz's taste in music."

"What's wrong with -"

"Whiny college rock is fine when you're in highschool, but ain't you supposed to be about as powerful as a small country by now? If you ask me, that don't really go with pink shirts and Nickelback CDs. Besides," Faith looked Willow up and down and toyed with the sleeve of her admittedly not very head-banging-inspiring frilly blouse, "I think I'm gonna make it my duty to get you to rock out more; hell, I never even got to see you in that black leather outfit."

"Leather... Oh, that one. That wasn't mine, that was – well, OK, technically it was mine, but not mine mine, she wasn't... we were... um..." Willow quickly diverted her thoughts from her vampire self and briefly considered asking Faith about that Beauty and the Beast soundtrack she'd found in the CD player the other day, but decided against it. OK, rocking out it is then, and since they were sitting here, the rocking might as well come with some making. Only Faith insisted on keeping the music very loud and distracting, which complicated matters; there seemed to be some sort of trick to moving in time with both the guitars and each other and Willow couldn't quite get the syncopation right. Besides, when a new song started she couldn't keep from asking something that had bugged her for some time now. "Why does the guitar player wear a school uniform in every single song anyway?"

"Because it's cool. Duh." Faith flashed her the devil horns as if to make a point.

"OK, if you start headbanging and singing along with the guitars, we might have a problem."

Faith actually looked as if she might do exactly that, but then focused on the TV again. "Oh, watch this; I think there's a full moon."

"Whaddyamean, they're indoors and... oh." Willow stared in disbelief as the skinny little guitarist proceeded to take off his school uniform mid-guitar solo and expose his pimply ass to the audience, who apparently thought it was the greatest thing ever. As did Faith, who proclaimed it to, quote, "rock", unquote. Willow failed to see the appeal. When the next song began with the whole band grunting "Oi! Oi! Oi!" in chorus over the same three chords as all the other songs had used, and Faith started grunting along under her breath, Willow decided to change tactics; three more hours of this obviously wasn't going to get any results. Instead she yawned and started getting up, tracing her fingers along Faith's neck. "OK, loud guitars and hairy manchests not really doing it for me. Think I'll go to bed... Wanna come with?"

Faith's reply was a deep sigh and a contemplative look at the ceiling. "I'm gonna have to show you, aren't I?"

"Show me what?"

Faith responded by suddenly jumping to her feet and onto the coffee table, wobbling somewhat but steady enough to start dancing to the music in a swirl of hips and guitars that made Willow think that maybe this wasn't so bad after all; with these kinds of visual aids, the rhythm was a lot easier to get into. And when Faith next combined her gyrations by singing along - "I'm dirty, mean and mighty unclean, I'm a wanted man! Public enemy number one, understand?" - Willow did indeed start understanding the intricacies of the lyrics as well. It didn't hurt that Faith was starting to take her clothes off, either. "So lock up your daughter, lock up your wife" - that was the zipper - "Lock up your back door and run for your life!" Let's be fair to Willow; even if she'd wanted to at this point, Faith waving her ass in her face pretty much made running a non-plan. "The man is back in town, so don't you mess me 'round..." In one (somewhat less Slayer-graceful than usual) movement, Faith kicked her pants halfway across the room, did a 180 off the coffee table and landed in a grinning heap on top of Willow's lap.


Faith growled in her ear. "I'm TNT, I'm dynamite... Still wanna go to bed?"

"I guess I could be persuaded to stay up..."

"No persuasion here." Faith shook her head with a patient half-smile. "Just turn off that big brain of yours and... Watch me explooode... rock."

"You got it." Faith's mouth tasted of wine and... Willow just had to ask one more thing. "Did I ever tell you you're, well, kinda nuts?"

"Huh-huh-huh." Faith snickered as the guitar solo kicked in, and in one move scattered the buttons of Willow's shirt to all corners of the room. "You said 'nuts'."