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Author's Chapter Notes:
In honor of Friday the 13th...
The Bronze was a throbbing organism, the mass of people moving in time to the primal beat of the hypnotic music pounding through the speakers. Faith wove her way through the throng balancing her precious cargo carefully. She glared daggers at anyone who threatened to upset her balance.

“Alright ladies! I’ve got a sex on the beach for Willow, a red headed slut for Tara—as if she needed another one—an extra bloody Mary for Anya, a girly daiquiri for Buffy, and a Guinness all for me.” Faith set the last glass on the table and snatched her hand back before Buffy took it off trying to get to her drink.

“To Tara and Willow!” a slightly tipsy Buffy toasted gleefully. They were having a girl’s night out to celebrate Willow and Tara’s now official relationship. No boys were allowed, just the girls, and they were all going to get trashed. Willow and Tara blushed, but raised their glasses with the others. They nursed their drinks, letting the pulsing club surround them.

“How’s that red headed slut treating you T?” Faith asked devilishly. The quiet woman blushed at the innuendo, ducking her head.

“S-s-s-she’s a-as good as s-s-sex on the b-beach!” Faith’s dusky laughter filled the silence while everyone else’s jaw dropped at the naughty twinkle in Tara’s eye; everyone but Anya.

“I don’t know why you’re all so surprised, I think Tara has great orgasmic potential as a dominatrix.” The stunned faces all turned towards Anya, Tara blushing bright red again. Faith was the first to break out of her stupor.

“Hell, I’ll drink to that. To Tara’s controlling side,” Faith said, knocking back the rest of her beer.

************ ************ **** ************ ************

“You know,” a drunk!Buffy slurred, “you two…you’re lucky. Lucky! Luck-ee. Juno why? ‘Specause you’re just, just starting. And that’s nice. You’re fresh! You’re cookie dough!”

“No,” Willow said with a vigorous shake of her head. She stopped when she got a little dizzy and almost fell off her chair. “Better. We’re better ‘n’ cookie dough! We…we’re ice cream!” The two girls collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“Silly! ‘Snot what I meant,” Buffy reasoned.

Faith just rolled her eyes and downed her fourth beer of the night. She was only a little tipsy; she’d take it on herself to be the responsible one tonight, which didn’t happen often. Besides, a drunk Buffy was way to rare a phenomena not to experience it fairly sober…for the most part.

“Are you making metaphorical comparisons to how Tara tastes during sex?” Faith choked on her laughter. Apparently, Anya could hold her liquor way better than any of the other women, and her question was just met with drunken stares of incomprehension.

“A-hic-nya!” Tara waggled her finger at the blonde woman. “No! She doesn’t mean ice cream. She means strawberries!”

“No no no nonononono!” Buffy interrupted, shaking her head. “Not ice cream, cookie dough! B-because yer not“—Buffy belched rather dramatically—“see, these people try to bake you. Even if you don’t wanna be baked. But they try. They think they’re these great chefs and...they want to take your gooey goodness and bake into warm chocolaty kind of gooness. B-b-but they’re bad. Bad chefs! And they burn your cookies! They BURN them!”

“Did Riley give you an STD?” Anya asked brightly.

“And on that note, it’s time to take this party home!” Faith declared.

************ ************ **** ************ ************

Fatih needed a drink. A very large, very stiff one full of liquor. Robin was away on some sort of business trip, and Faith had kindly volunteered their place as a crash pad for the after party. Never again. Getting all the drunk people to her house had been more trouble than it was worth.

“Why not?”

“I have a boyfriend, Anya!” Faith rolled her eyes and made her way over to Buffy.

“Your boyfriend is way outclassed in orgasm potential by Spike and Will…together and alone!”

“They’re my roommates, Anya! I’m not going to sleep with them.” She took a sip of the drink Faith offered her. “Blegh! Faith! This is horrible!”

“I cut you off, B. No more alchy for you!”

“No! We need drinky! Oh! Let’s play a game!” Buffy bounced up and down excitedly.

“One where Buffy jumps those sexy blondes and eases the sexual tension before she explodes,” Anya muttered. Faith silently agreed with Anya, who she was beginning to like more and more.

“They’re my—“

“Hey! I work for them and I—“ a suddenly furious Buffy was in her face.

“What? You what?” she demanded fiercely. Willow and Tara broke away from making up at the deadly anger in Buffy’s voice. Anya merely smiled serenely.

“You’re jealous.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“Hey, B, I think—“ Buffy growled at Faith before her glittering green eyes were back on Anya.

“What I was GOING to say,” the put-upon woman said, “was I’d do them, even though their my bosses. Hasn’t happened, never will…but damn.” Buffy relaxed, still glowering at Anya.

“Drinking game?” Willow hesitantly ventured.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Faith said, warily eyeing Buffy. A pack of cards appeared in Anya’s hand.

“This game is called Face Number Seven,” She said authoritatively. The only sign that she’d been drinking steadily for the past few hours was how long it took her to shuffle the deck. “Face: you get a face card, you can ask anyone in the circle any question and they have to answer. Number: any number card but seven you pass a drink, evens to the right, odds to the left.”

“And sevens?” Willow asked.

“You get to give anyone you want a drink and a question. Whoever gets asked a question or hit with a seven gets to go next; otherwise, draw to the left.”

“Oh! Oh! Me! I want to start!” Buffy drew an eight. “Faith! Drink up!”

Anya drew a three; Tara got a five; Willow drew a nine; Faith got the first face card.

“Alright…Willow.” She fixed the nervous red head with a malicious grin. “How good is Tara in bed?” Willow suddenly matched her hair color.

“She’s…ah, I mean, well, um…she’s-the-best-I’ve-ever-had!” The words came out rushed together, the alcohol helping to slur them, but everyone got the message. Willow buried her head against Tara’s shoulder, who had turned a little pink but looked oddly proud. Buffy let out a wistful little awe sound that made Faith want to ralph. The game continued without much drama, until Anya drew a seven. She threw it down triumphantly.

“Buffy. How much do you want to jump the twins?” Everyone held their breath, waiting for Buffy’s response. Her eyes were closed, and Faith elbowed her friend.

“Hey B, you have to answer the question.”

“Hhhhhmmmm,” she murmured sleepily, “I want them…to make me cookies.” Buffy started snoring lightly.

“Does this mean the game is over?” Anya asked between hiccups.

“Yeah,” Faith said, looking over at Willow and Tara who were busy with each other, “that about sums it up. Want some Jack?”

A/N: Can I just say Spike and Will can make me cookies any day they please? Thanks. And guess how many chapters are left now....





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