Inspired by the daily post. I promise I won't make a habit of it...heh heh...
The Tennis Match
Copyright Disclaimer: It’s Joss. It’s all about Joss…
Synopsis: A ‘friendly’ tennis match between Willow, Tara, Faith and Buffy doesn’t exactly go as planned.
It was a hot day and the sun was just reaching its height above the tennis court, when the girls dumped their bags at the green wire side. Playing on grass hadn’t been Buffy’s first choice, but the offer of a secluded court from a friend of Giles’ had been difficult to turn down. Besides, she told herself, it was a matter of honour, playing the pants off of Faith. For so long, she’d had to listen to Faith go on and on about what a great tennis player she was; how she’d aced her serves on the prison team; how there wasn’t a single woman in the ‘big house’ who could beat her. Well, Buffy thought to herself as she pulled down her sweatpants, Faith was going to learn the meaning of ‘loser’ today.
Willow and Tara fooled around, tickling each other as they removed their outer clothing. They hadn’t exactly been prepared for a tennis match, not having what Buffy called ‘appropriate clothing’. So a trip to their local sports clothing store had been necessary, culminating in brand new whites for the both of them. Willow had been complimentary about Tara’s legs, especially in the changing room, where much fun had ensued as the girls tried on several striped tops, testing them for mobility, comfort and, of course, what Willow termed ‘clingability’.
Faith had opted for black. She justified her choice as more aerodynamic, although, Buffy noted, that just gave Faith the opportunity to show off her newly toned muscles. Obviously, working out in the prison gym hadn’t done her any harm. The blonde Slayer couldn’t help letting her eyes rove hungrily over Faith’s body, clad as it was in Lycra running shorts and a skin-tight sleeveless t-shirt. Damn her, Buffy thought furiously, wrenching the zipper on her racquet cover, she looks so great. Prison was supposed to be a punishment; for Faith it had provided extra workout time. And the dark Slayer looked amazing for it.
“Come on!” Faith’s voice came impatiently from the far end of the court, as she tapped her racquet against the sole of her black Nikes.
Willow gave Tara a quick kiss on the cheek and jogged down the court to join her. Faith gave her a cursory glance as she approached. “How come I get so lucky?” she asked sardonically as the redhead took up her position.
“Oh get over it Faith,” Willow said, her lip curling slightly as she bent her knees, bouncing her body weight up and down. “It was a fair draw. You think I wanna play with you?”
Faith swung her racquet in the air, feeling the energy run through her shoulder. She hardly registered Willow’s comment, instead looking across to where Buffy and Tara stood, exchanging match play techniques, both of them dressed in white skirts. It was good that the sun was out, she thought, good that everyone was dressed appropriately. Her eyes lingered over Buffy’s form, the delicate features of the blonde masking the muscular body that Faith knew was there. Maybe I should look harder, she thought; try to spot the fighter inside the woman. She remembered almost immediately with some distaste the attempts at femininity from the other inmates. Now that had been quite a challenge in itself…
“Huh?” she turned back to Willow, a confused look on her face. She stuck her racquet between her legs and pulled at her raven hair, scraped back into a ponytail.
“You think it was my choice to play with you?” Willow repeated, her face crinkling into a frown. Her gaze wandered across the court to where Tara was preparing herself for the game, swinging her racquet in a circle. The gaze of the witch softened slightly, appreciating the luxuriousness of her girlfriend’s body, recalling the snuggles they had shared only this morning.
“You wish,” Faith snorted, returning to her former stance. “Bet your girlfriend’s wishing she could play with me.”
Willow advanced on Faith, her eyes burning bright green, her racquet held like a weapon above her head. Faith laughed, completely unmoved by the witch’s anger, “Alright Red! That’s the fighting spirit! Keep thinkin’ like that and we got the game sewn up.”
“Hey!” Buffy’s voice reached them from the far end of the court, where she was holding a ball in her hand. Willow and Faith gave one another a final glare and returned to their places.
Glancing across at Tara, Buffy shook her head. “You sure about this? I’m not much of a tennis player.”
Tara swallowed hard, wishing that she could remember the tennis lessons her parents had forced upon her as a child. Unfortunately, all that came into her head were the lessons in sports clothing that Willow had forced upon her in the changing room. “Uh…me either, let’s just…let’s just see what happens, okay?”
“Does that mean we’re going to lose?” Buffy frowned, looking hard at the blonde girl, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in the clothing that showed off way more flesh than she’d be willing to bet Tara liked.
“Not necessarily,” Tara grinned, “There’s always magick.”
“Oh well that’s not playing fair. No way.” Buffy threw the ball up high in the air, squinted at it through the sun that blasted down onto her face, then whapped at it with her racquet, sending it swishing across the net. Faith let it bounce once, then gave a hard forehand that rocketed the ball back towards Buffy. The blonde Slayer gave a yelp as the ball closed on her, dancing out of the way as it bounced almost gracefully, just inside the perimeter line.
“Love fifteen!” Faith shouted gleefully. Even Willow looked impressed.
“So,” Buffy turned back towards Tara, “About that magick then.”
“No problem.” Tara’s full lips curved into a smile before she began muttering under her breath.
Buffy raised the ball and served again. This time, the ball travelled over towards Willow who faced it with grim determination on her face. Just as she raised her racquet to intercept it, the ball seemed to stop in its path and jump over her head, falling behind her to bounce softly, twice, on the court. Willow spun around, her racquet flailing, her face a picture of confusion and despair.
“Fifteen all!” Buffy called across, an innocent smile on her face. But Faith noticed the wink she passed to the other girl beside her, and she turned on Willow, her eyes flaming.
“Jeez Red! What the fuck are you playing at? That wasn’t exactly a difficult shot!” She stomped over to where the redhead stood, bewilderment painted across her pale face.
“Wha..? The ball just stopped!” Willow said.
“Yeah, when you came over all girlie and useless.” Faith muttered.
“Well I’m so sorry Martina,” Willow snarled, “I suppose I just need to take butch lessons from you when it comes to competitive sports.”
Faith’s face curled into an expression of contempt. “And here’s me thinkin’ lesbo’s had the upper hand in the playing tennis thing. Guess I’m wrong.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Willow shot back.
“Uh, you two going to argue all day or are we going to play tennis?” Buffy’s voice floated over.
Both girls looked over to the blonde Slayer, practically dancing around with a huge smile plastered across her face. Tara joined her, one hand tapping the racquet nervously against her legs, the other shading her eyes from the sun. She watched Willow’s stance; her girlfriend had already expressed her fears at playing on the same team as Faith. And, although she didn’t want to play devil’s advocate, Tara couldn’t help agreeing. There was something about the dark Slayer that really got to her…even scared her a little. Yeah, sure, she looked really hot in her black outfit, but looking hot wasn’t a reason to like someone. Tara looked again at Willow, desolate but very cute in her tennis whites. And she changed her mind.
“Just talkin’ over team tactics.” Faith shouted back.
Buffy’s grin widened. “Team playing? You?” she called, watching in glee as Faith’s shoulders hunched in annoyance, “Thought you were a solo gig, Faith.”
“Aww girlfriend,” Faith returned, her gaze burning the blonde Slayer like ice, even from a distance, “How’s about you an’ me find out what team playing’s all about then?” Even with the sun obscuring her vision, Faith could tell that Buffy was blushing. Now that made her smile. Turning, she walked back to her position, leaning into a stance that invited a return to the game.
Buffy reached for another ball, throwing it up easily into the air and slamming it with her racquet, forcing it over the net. Faith leaned into the return, sending it shooting back towards Buffy, who intercepted, running forwards to the net. She and Faith engaged one another in a furious rally, eyes locked in fierce competition, ending only when Buffy tripped, falling onto the sun-heated grass as the ball bumped over the net, rolling to a stop near her legs.
Tara looked across the court to see Willow smiling and wiping her hand down her short tennis skirt. A glower flickered in the blonde’s eyes for a second, as she listened to Buffy curse under her breath.
“Fifteen thirty.” Willow pronounced, twirling coquettishly and swinging her racquet down by the side of her legs.
“I’m not sure that was exactly by the rules, sweetie,” Tara called over, sensing that the ball had had some help in defeating Buffy.
Getting to her feet, Buffy frowned. “What do you mean?”
Tara pointed downwards, “Your laces.”
Buffy followed the other girl’s gaze. The knotted laces of her tennis shoes had become undone. More than that, they had become twisted with one another, practically tying her feet together. Fumbling with them, Buffy shot a glare across to Willow. “Nice work Will. If you can’t win, cheat?”
“Hey! It’s not like I enchanted the ball or anything.” Willow’s words weren’t lost on Tara, who blushed and picked at an invisible thread on her skirt.
“You used magick?” Faith was incredulous, “You worked some mojo on the ball?”
“Uh…not on the ball exactly.” Willow shook her head, “More on Buffy’s shoes.” She shrugged, “I want us to win.”
Faith grinned from ear to ear. “Wicked cool.” Flexing her muscles, she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and looked genuinely happy for the first time during the match. “Fifteen thirty,” she confirmed, calling across to Buffy and Tara.
“Willow, you can’t really expect us to count that point,” Tara said, watching as her girlfriend pulled a face and stuck out her tongue playfully.
“Why not? You counted yours, and you’re not telling me you didn’t have anything to do with that whole ‘ball stopping in mid-air’ thingy,” she said, wanting to smile at the doleful look that crossed Tara’s face.
“We’re playing at a disadvantage,” Tara protested, “Buffy and I don’t want to kill the ball. Faith does.”
Faith moved forwards to the net, gripping her racquet like a weapon, joined by Willow and met by Buffy and Tara. The girls faced off with only the flimsy netting between them, the dark Slayer’s jaw jutting out firmly as she met the eyes of her counterpart dead on.
“I just wanna play tennis. Ain’t my fault if you two can’t bear losing to me,” she said in a growl.
“Losing to you? Don’t make me laugh!” Buffy said dismissively.
“How about I make you scream?” Faith said.
“Uh…guys…” Willow tried to dampen the hormones that were sparking the air between them.
“Sure, right after I break your playing arm.” Buffy countered.
“Um…tennis anyone?” Tara offered weakly. She and Willow shared a sympathetic glance, the redhead’s eyes then moving appreciatively up and down her body, clad as it was in clothes that barely covered her. She blushed.
“Maybe we’re just not playing B’s kinda game,” Faith said carelessly, folding her arms over her chest, noticing Buffy wince as she did so.
“I don’t play games. Unlike some people,” Buffy’s pointed comment was aimed directly at her. Now it was Faith’s turn to wince.
“M-maybe we should, you know, go back to love all?” Tara self-consciously pulled at the hem of her tennis skirt. Had it been this short when she’d tried it on? Thinking back, she remembered that the length of her skirt had hardly been the first thing on her mind in the whole changing room experience. She blushed again.
“Just what I was thinking,” Willow said decisively, the glint in her eyes obviously reminding her of the changing rooms also. She grinned wickedly across at Tara, “I’m game if you are, baby.”
“Love all? Are you kidding? We’re winning for chrissakes!” Faith’s eyes widened and she looked at Willow for backup. Realising that the witch’s mind wasn’t exactly on the game, she sighed. “Jeez, will you two stop it and play the game?” Flicking her gaze back towards Buffy, who was now wiping a sheen of sweat from her brow, she shrugged inwardly. On a day like this, maybe Red did have a point. Buffy sure was looking kinda…well, buff…
Willow shrugged, “I’m kind of bored of this. Playing tennis and being all sporty is just…you know…being all sporty. Never did sit too well with me. Not being of the, ah, sporty persuasion. How about Tara and I go find some lemonade and let you two get on with it?”
Buffy shook her head. “We’re here for doubles and that’s how we’ll play.”
“Well, actually, I could go for some lemonade. I mean, it’s all hot and stuff, and Willow and I…we’re not really…you know, not exactly with the whole tennis thing anyway…” Tara knew her excuses had holes in them as big as the Grand Canyon, but judging from her girlfriend’s eager nodding, she knew it wouldn’t be long before the both of them saw the inside of a changing room again.
“If you must…” Buffy sighed, not quite understanding, but not quite letting herself, either.
“We must. Ok. Have fun. Bye!” Willow grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her away to the edge of the court, watched by an incredulous Faith and Tara.
“Are those two…?” Buffy began, realisation dawning on her slowly.
“Oh yeah. Definitely.” Faith chuckled to herself, before bringing her gaze back to the Slayer in front of her. “So, whaddya say girlfriend. Up for some one on one?” A crooked grin that bordered on wicked playfully tickled the corners of her mouth.
Buffy caught the sentiment and met Faith’s gaze firmly. A slow smile spread across her lips and she noticed, yet again, how taut Faith’s stomach was underneath her black, clinging top. She let her gaze wander over the other Slayer, roving over her hair, clinging to the nape of her neck, damp with sweat. “No tricks?” she asked, watching as Faith rose to the challenge.
“No tricks.” Faith nodded, “So reckon you can lick me good and proper?” The flirtation wasn’t lost on Buffy, whose eyes widened slightly before narrowing to a response that didn’t quite hide her feelings.
“Well…I can try,” she answered slowly.
“Okay then. Love all.”