Faith eating ice cream was nothing like Willow expected. No way would she have pegged Faith as the bubblegum type. Faith's more like dark chocolate, or walnut swirl, or black licorice. Never bubblegum.

Faith licked delicately the double-scooper of sugary pastel-blue ice cream, and that was wrong, too. Willow thought Faith would devour her dessert in three monster bites, throw away the waffle cone as not worth her bother, then drag a hand across her face and be done with it.

Willow knew her mouth was hanging open, but the sight of Faith's tongue working her ice cream, up and down, twirling circles to tease out a buried gumball, then swiping the flat of her tongue across the melted droplets that threatened to dribble down the side of her cone...well, Faith wasn't being fair. She wasn't eating her ice cream, she was...molesting it. In a *bad* way. Willow was sure it was bad, and if she could just figure out how, then she could stop staring...

When there was no ice cream left, and Faith's tongue had found every trace of ice creamy goodness still clinging to her full lips, she tossed the napkin away and turned to Willow.

"Having a bit of trouble?" she asked, as if she hadn't just...done what she did...on purpose.

"What?" Willow glanced at her own cone. She'd lost her top scoop somewhere along the way, and the bottom scoop had melted all over her hand. She was sticky and pink nearly to her elbow.

Faith lifted Willow's hand to her mouth. "I think we'd better get you cleaned up," she said, and let her tongue dart out again.

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November 26, 2004