Title: Supermarket Overture
Author: Bonster (e-mail some feedback)
Rating: T
Pairings: Dawn/Amy
Summary: Dawn's in the supermarket. So is Amy.
Spoilers: Up to Season 6.
Author's Notes: All mistakes are totally my lamebrain own.
Disclaimer: This is strictly non-profit fan work.

They meet in the supermarket. Dawn wonders that she's only stood face to face with the human-turned-rat-turned-back-to-human on two different days, once in her kitchen and once by her front door. A quick and easy captivation, even though she swiftly dismissed it. It remains something strong in Dawn's mind, however; sticking in her brain like strands of cotton candy to a pair of moist lips -- a nuisance and something else, something sweet. Something that Dawn recognizes as a connection when any connection will do.

Xander, her friend and ride, moves away toward the dairy section. She hears a jumble of words: eskimo pies, flower arrangements, life before engagement.

Dawn feels like he's on the other side of the world ... and for the first time in months, she doesn't mind very much.

At first she doesn't realize that she's following the witch's path through aisle after aisle. When she does, her hand freezes, squeezing a can of soup that's half-way to her cart. Just then, Amy exits the aisle and turns left. Eyes flicking from side to side, seeing a mother and toddler beside her, Dawn hurriedly places the soup into the cart and follows. Around the corner, she's a distance back, but within sight again. Dawn wonders how anyone who is probably a decent witch wouldn't feel tracking eyes or hear the sounds of a cart that keeps perfect pace. Especially a cart with one wheel that turns too slow and drags along the tiled floor with a harsh, screeching sound.

Dawn picks up the things on the list as she goes. Bread, cereal, peanut butter, pancake mix. She's standing before the bagged and/or boxed spaghetti, wondering which kind sounds most appetizing, when she sees a cart pull in front of her.

She knows that Amy hasn't come by their house in a long while. Dawn knows that she's responsible for the candles and trinkets they had to throw away and Willow's fears. Even if Buffy doesn't tell her some things, she's not blind or stupid. But she still finds herself more curious than angry with the older girl. After all, Willow makes decisions that leave her abandoned, why should she blame the person who paved the way for those choices?

A small voice tells her she knows why, and that she's being extra nice because of what she wants.

What does she want?

Amy stands with a hesitant posture, body asking a question. Dawn's not sure what it is or if she should answer, but she nods her head slightly, which could be seen as just a head tilt, but Dawn knows that it’s clear.

Dawn's never talked to Willow about Rack's and what the magic gave her that she was so desperate for. She's aware that she would like- no, that she needs to know. Being a mystical being herself, she tries to trust her instincts, especially when it comes to things to do with magic. If she wants, she grabs -- whether it's the odds and ends from the Magic Box or answers from the nearest witch.

"What did you see? At Rack's?"

Amy turns toward her, eyes widened slightly, an inward gaze and one corner of her mouth turned up just so. The question doesn't look like it surprises her. "What didn't I see?" She grabs a package of spaghetti from the shelf, sets it carefully into her cart. Carefully because Dawn's question struck something within her. Something that made her lick her lips. Dawn sees she would have rubbed her hands together if she hadn't been holding the spaghetti. Rack's is a memory that makes her skin glow with subdued heat.

Flares of anger shoot through Dawn's limbs, and she reaches out suddenly and takes hold of Amy's arm. She's thinking, "Those memories are not what you need," and she wants to get rid of them. The intensity leaves her then, and she loosens her grip on Amy's arm, letting it go. But Amy's eyes gain something, a new and hungry light.

Anticipation jolts her, as Amy's eyes drown her own. Dawn licks her too-dry lips.

Something unspoken is taking her air and as Amy leads, she follows. Like she's been caught in a... a word she has for a spelling test this week, a maelstrom. They walk along the aisles and head out of the automatic exit. They leave the store and go into the twilight, and as they are passing a soda machine, Amy abruptly yanks Dawn around. Back to the brick wall behind her, Dawn allows herself a small smile and even smaller tremble.

When Amy leans in, the kiss is engulfing and sweet. Dawn likes kissing, even if she's only been kissed by a vampire, and now a witch. She wants more from this kiss, even if she knows that whatever this is shouldn't happen between the fifty cent ride and the forty-five cent sodas. Thinking this, she raises her arm to Amy's side, curls her hand there, presses slightly, willing time to stop around them. It feels like it has. Does Amy have that kind of power? Dawn's throat emits a deep chuckle because she doesn't really care, as long as this kiss and those hands don't leave her.

Amy's mouth is warm and getting warmer, and her touch is quick and hard. She bends just so, pressing solid against Dawn, and Dawn feels something like fire between them. A small moan flows from Amy's mouth to her own, and Dawn's teeth and tongue ache.

Rubbing against dark denims and cotton-polyester top, Dawn knows she's on the verge of something that she can't stop. And when she hears a voice from the intercom above them asking for Dawn Summers to come to the customer service desk, she removes her lips from Amy's and with deep breaths, pushes at the body in front of her.

Amy's mouth is wet and a flush highlights her cheeks. Dawn hasn't seen anything so wonderful and alive in such a long time, that she hugs Amy fiercely, not wanting to let go, not wanting this moment to pass.

A minute goes by, both catching their breath, and she feels Amy's mouth turning to her ear, and she leans away.

She looks into the older girl's eyes. What she's sees there, is not a look that says this occasion was a passing interest that would be forgotten, but a promise. And it's more than Buffy, Willow, or any of them can give her.

A promise to be around.

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