A short update... but hopefully very satisfying.
Fingers tapping the keyboard impatiently, Willow waited for the program to load. Tara was upstairs, and she had decided to work on the Gaelic translation program. She’d long completed the Latin translations, and now it was time to move onto more complicated fields.
When Willow Rosenberg was upset, she worked. Mostly she babbled, more often than not, she cried, but now, she needed to do something useful. She needed to feel useful.
Wasn’t that what it had always been about? Being useful? She’d worked so hard in junior school, high school, college, just so that she could feel useful. When she felt most useful, though, was when she was helping Buffy. Witchcraft, or research, it didn’t matter. Buffy Summers was the Slayer. She could have had the help of any thousands of people. She’d needed her. People needed her.
“I need you, too,” Tara murmured into her ear.
Willow jumped slightly. “What are you doing down here?” she whispered, smiling as she half-turned towards Tara. Her gorgeous blonde girlfriend was wearing only her kimono – and nothing else. It was fastened skimpily around the waist, and Tara twisted the silken cord around her finger, well aware of the effect that her attire was having on Willow.
“Talking to you,” she replied, easing herself onto the couch, stretching a long leg out in front of her. Willow gulped, unconsciously wetting her lips, and Tara smiled at the sight of it.
A thought entered the redhead’s rapidly-emptying mind. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
Tara smiled lopsidedly. “Sweetie, you said so. I don’t think you even notice it, but when you think you’re alone, or you’re asleep, you say your thoughts out loud. Or rather, you babble them.”
Pink tinged Willow’s cheeks. “I do?” she whispered.
“You do,” Tara told her, trying hard to concentrate on the words. Willow, blushing… Tara felt her own cheeks flush with anticipation.
Willow switched off the computer, and Tara knew her lover’s intentions – who was she kidding? She’d known the second she’d slipped on the kimono what Willow’s response would be.
“Goddess, you’re so beautiful,” Willow said dreamily, lowering herself with difficulty onto the floor. Their daughter kicked, annoyed at having been disturbed, and she smiled. “Looks like our little girl here’s getting a little impatient.”
Tara gulped. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” she said huskily.
“No,” Willow agreed. “Impatient babies, bad. Satisfied Taras, good.”
“And what about satisfied Willows?”
“Willows are always satisfied when Taras are happy. And I intend on making you very happy.”
They spoke no more that night.