Hello, Kittens! After a year or so's hiatus, I'm back, and writing better than ever! So here's a bit of fluff to get back into the swing of it, before I hit up the heavy angst. This should be a relatively short fic, no more than a few chapters, but it should also be filled with all sorts of W/T cuteness, so stay tuned!
To Get Your Attention
By Naeryn Stratford
Disclaimer: All characters copyright Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, no infringement intended.
Rating: PG for now, I may adjust the rating later as I see fit.
Summary: AU. Willow and Tara both attended Sunnydale high together. Tara had a place on the cheerleading squad, and Willow was the head nerd. Also, there are no vampires, no Hellmouth, and no Slayer. Please note that this was inspired by the song How Do You Like Me Now, by Toby Keith. It's a great song, you should give it a listen. I also want to note that although my fic is based on a very similar concept, it's far less mean-spirited. XD
Prologue: The Phone Number Incident
"Oh my god, Tara, come quickly!" Cordelia huffed, her breath catching at her throat. "It's terrible!" She grabbed Tara's arm, tugging her quickly towards the locker room doors.
Tara was used to Cordelia's excitability, of course, and quickly tossed her pom-poms onto the bench that ran behind her locker. "What? Jeez, Cordy, slow down. What happened?" She twisted her arm free of her head cheerleader's grasp.
"It's..." Cordelia shook her head quickly and grabbed Tara's arm again. "Just come see."
Confused, Tara followed, trying to keep up so she wouldn't stumble when Cordelia tugged on her arm. She was dragged up the bleachers, all the way up to the top, before Cordelia spun her around abruptly. She gasped, lifting her hand to her mouth in horror. Tara stumbled back, sitting down hard on the bench behind her.
There on the field, someone had taken the school's lawnmower and mowed words onto the fifty-yard line. '555-8274 - CALL FOR A GOOD TIME!' It was Tara's phone number. The blood rushed to her face in a mixture of anger, hurt and embarrassment. "Who would...?" She whispered in a small voice.
She wracked her brain. As far as she knew, she had no enemies at school. Granted, she didn't socialize with the lowest rungs on the high school social scale, but she took pains never to be rude to anyone, at least not without good reason. Was there anyone who hated her enough to do such a thing?
Tara sniffed quietly, willing herself not to cry. Whoever it is doesn't matter. They're just foolish and petty, and it won't matter anyway because there's time for the groundskeeper to mow the field before the game starts, so no one else has to see it. She took a deep breath, forcing her heart to slow and her head to stop pounding. She locked her jaw tightly and muttered to Cordelia, "You'll get Tom to fix this?"
"Of course! There's no way we'd start a game with the field like this!" Cordelia reached out and pulled Tara into a tight hug. "I'll go talk to Tom right away, but I just... well, I thought you should know."
Nodding, Tara pulled away and started down the stands. "I'm going to go finish getting ready."
"All right, Tara. I'll go get Tom, and then be inside in a minute." Cordelia sighed, looking once more at the ugly words scrawled across the field. "She's the nicest one of us. Why would someone do this to her?" She shook her head and headed off to find Tom.
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Willow looked down, twisting the toe of her shoe into the linoleum schoolroom floor. "Well... yeah. I thought it'd get her attention."
Sighing, Xander shook his head. "It'll probably just hurt her, Will. Or piss her off, but either way, you're no closer to getting in her pants." He reached out with a fist and lightly tapped Willow on the head. "If you're lucky, she'll never know it was you. But why do you keep trying, Will? I mean, she's never been cruel to you like Cordelia and Harmony are, but she's never paid attention to you, or anything."
Willow sighed, puffing up her bangs. "I know, I know, I know. But she..."
"She gave you a crayon, Will. In the first grade. I mean, don't get me wrong, that was an important day for me, too, but..."
"I know, Xand. I know. I just..." She rolled her eyes, threw up her hands, and started pacing. "I can't let it go."
She thought back to the incident, not even noticing as the corners of her mouth turned up and the tip of her tongue made it's famous appearance.
The crayon cracked. Willow's eyes flew open in horror at what she'd done. It was broken, clean in two, right across the middle. Was it useless, now? Would she get in trouble!? She screwed up her face and began to cry quietly in fear.
"Here." Willow opened her eyes to see a small boy sitting beside her, waving his hand for the teacher as he clutched the broken yellow crayon, and a hand extended in front of her bearing a new one.
A huge smile broke out across Willow's face. She reached out and took the crayon, breathlessly, as though it were a sacred object. She looked up to see large, innocent blue eyes framed by white-blonde hair and a quirky half-grin on one of the friendliest faces she'd ever seen. She looked over at the boy and grinned again, for his face was the next on her new list of friendly people.
The girl sat down on her other side and smiled at her, tilting her head. "I'm Tara."
"I'm Willow!" She couldn't keep herself from smiling. Was this possible? Did she have a friend after only the first week of her new school?
The boy, having received his new crayon, edged closer on the other side. "I'm Alexander, and everyone keeps calling me Alex, but will you please call me Xander? I like it better." He grinned. "It sounds cooler."
Willow rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and giggled, clapping her hands together. "Okay, Xander."
Tara leaned into Willow's shoulder, looking down at her page. "What'cha drawing, Willow?"
Willow blushed and smiled. "I'm drawing a new family." She shook her head vigorously. "My mommy and daddy aren't around very much, so I'm drawing the family I'm going to have when I'm all growed up and can make my own." She showed her the page, decorated with four stick figures, two tiny and two large. One of the large ones had a mess of red on it's bubble of a head, clearly meant to be Willow as an adult.
She looked over at Tara out of the corner of her eye, picked up the yellow crayon, and drew long yellow hair on the other big stick figure.
Willow sighed again. She wondered what Xander would say if he knew that she still had that drawing... and she'd stolen the crayon. The next day, of course, Xander had hung out with her again, but Tara hadn't. She had captivated everyone in that classroom, and had quickly become fast friends with a girl named Buffy, so, naturally, the next day, that's where she was.
"And it's not like I just want to get in her pants, Xand. That's not even the point."
He grinned and shrugged. "I know. But I like to think it's the point." He flinched away from Willow's hand as it flew towards the backside of his head. "What? I may be your," he snuggled close, still grinning, "bestest best friend, Will, but I'm still a boy. And two girls doin' it is still hot."
She sighed and pushed him away, but couldn't keep the smile from her own face. "Whatever, Xand."
She paused for a minute, and he watched as her features slowly transformed, the smile almost dripping off of her face, leaving a pained frown in it's place. He liked the smile much better. "Xander..."
"Yeah?"
"Do you really think I have no chance with her?"
He shook his head at her, jumping up to sit on a desk. "Will... you don't even know that she likes girls. She probably doesn't, since she's dating Larry, and he's pretty much as macho-man as you can get. I really don't know what she sees in him."
"You never get what anyone sees in him, because you're always jealous of him." She pushed him off the desk again and grinned. "You need to toughen up, Xand, if you're ever going to attract the ladies the way I do." She swung one hip outwards, lifting her hands up over her head, and fell into peals of laughter when he turned bright red. "You're so easy, Xander."
_________________ Don't you sit upon the shoreline and say you're satisfied, choose to chance the rapids, and dare to dance the tides - Garth Brooks, "the River"
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