I hope it reads pleasantly dearies.
Summary: Tara is a cellist. Willow is a stage techie. They meet first through music and perhaps they'll meet again through LUURRVE. (oh God, corny
)
Warnings: None. AU. I guess PG-13. Maybe higher later on, I haven't decided.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns. I am not Joss Whedon. Thus I do not own.
Notes: I think that's it. Oh apologies for typos or anything, I am forlornly beta-less.
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Chapitre Un/Chapter One
She's seen her around. She has. Just glimpses sometimes, but she sees her nonetheless. Perhaps it's one of those little quirks her mind seems to adopt every so often. Quirks meaning delusions. But alas, delusions are her occupational hazard. What else could being trapped in a shaded area with only mechanical consoles to talk to do? Oh well.
She saw her for the first time in a concert, maybe two months ago. Maybe two months, five days, two hours, and seventeen minutes ago. She was peering through the darkened window of her cozy (read: miniscule) "office" and onto the stage. Her fingers flitted over the controls obsessively as she attempted to perfect the lighting so the performers would have the perfect amount of shine. It was the day before the dress rehearsal of some concert and the techies aka Willow Rosenberg had to come up with preliminary set ups for lighting. Every so often, the performers would come in and set themselves up on stage, trying out their instruments, the hall's acoustics, the lighting, etc. And wonderful Willow was there to help tend to the demands or requests of each performer.
Nursing her third dose of caffeine, she kept lowering the lights since everything seemed unnaturally bright in the hall. Especially after she took another gulp of her 100% caffeine full mocha. Really, really bright. As if the sun decided to set up shop in the ceiling of the hall. And then . . . well everything got a whole lot brighter.
"Hello?" The voice came from behind the curtains that hid the backstage area.
Confused, I called out in a timid voice, "God?"
The curtains shifted and the tip of a sneaker became visible to Willow. "Hellloooo?" the voice repeated.
Wait, God doesn't wear sneakers . . . I mean does he? Shaking away the foolish thought, Willow realized that her mike wasn't on and thus her voice was inaudible to all except her beloved console. Switching on the mike, she spoke in a surprisingly booming voice: "Yes?"
The rustling of the curtains halted momentarily as the disembodied voice questioned, "God?"
And slowly a mischievous smile spread across the redheaded techie's face. It was time for a teensy weensy bit of fun. "Yes, this is she. What do you want?"
After a slight pause, the foot poking out from underneath the curtain found its voice again: "I didn't know God was a woman." The rustling recommenced; the person attached to the foot was trying to find the opening.
"Use the door," Willow commanded in her most regal tone, even thought it was easy to detect the mirth in her voice.
"Where is it?" The voice was muffled now. The poor person was probably being eaten alive by the monster curtains.
"To your right."
"Where?"
Sighing, the techie repeated, "Turn to your right and you'll see a --" The words refused to leave Willow's tongue since it was hanging out of her mouth and nearly touching the console. The moment she saw the blonde angel/goddess step out from behind the curtain and into one of the spotlights which bathed her in an illuminating glow, her mouth refused to articulate words other than "uhh" and "umm."
"Found it! Thank you God!? The angel/goddess' face crack into a little grin that was even more blinding than the spotlights that shone on her.
"Uh, uh, em, uh . . . welc-"
She looked around and called out, "Do you think we could get some more light in here? It's practically pitch black!"
The drool that threatened to pour out of Willow's mouth was disgusting, she knew. She needed to pull herself together. Moving her fingers up onto several buttons, light flooded the hall as she spoke humorously into the mike: "Let there be light."
As soon as the redhead accomplished this great feat, her heart literally stopped because she . . . she giggled.
"Thanks God." She walked across the stage with a large instrument case that Willow hadn't noticed before since she was so distracted by the, er, blinding lights. "So, Ms. God," the blonde continued. "Where do I set up?" It was obvious that she was intent on playing up the "God" charade for a bit longer. Not that Willow minded terribly.
"Anywhere you want," Willow breathed. The drool was beginning to muddle up her words now. Swallow! You're being gross!
"A compliant God I see," she smirked as she moved a chair to center stage, right under the point at which several spotlights intersected. Taking several moments to take an undoubtedly expensive cello out of her case, the blonde haired woman lifted her bow as if to start playing and paused suddenly.
"Yes?" The redhead was anxious to hear her play and the position of the bow was anything but settling.
"I don't suppose God would know a tuning A, would she??"The playful-ness of the blonde's voice did nothing to ameliorate the drool situation Willow was "handling".
And the techie couldn't help but giggle then, right into the mike. Regaining her "Godly" composure, Willow cleared her throat and said in a haughty tone,"Of course God knows how to sing an A. Do you think God can be omnipotent yet tone deaf? God is offended."
"God is talking about herself in the third person. God is also stalling."
Shooting a mock indignant glare towards the cellist even though it wasn't visible to her, Willow hummed the note into the mike.
"Thank you O gracious Apollo." Her eyes glinted wit humor as she briefly shot a glance toward the tech office. And right then, Willow swore to the actual God that her heart melted and gushed into her tummy, producing a warm gooey feeling.
Willow turned off her mike when it became evident that the musician was preparing to play her performance piece. And the moment her bow fell upon the cello strings, the redhead was consumed. In a wonderful, beautiful way. The best possible way a person can be consumed. With her gi-normous earphones blocking out the constant beeps from the console, she sunk into the music. It probably wasn't the best performance Willow had ever seen in her history as a techie, but it captured her rapt attention. The beauty of the musician and the music itself lured her mind and her eyes, enrapturing her. The soulful melody swayed the blonde's bowed heard from side to side; it hypnotized me. It was the music of beauty, something often referred to but rarely ever seen or heard. Of course many talented musicians were able to touch upon it but it was rare to see someone exploit it, create it, revel in it the way in which this beautiful musician did. It was the story she told with wordless sounds that was so very captivating for the redhead.
However, before Willow completely surrendered herself to her musical coma, heave paused and reality slowly crept through the chinks and crevices. Sighing, she slid off her earphones and continued to stare at this wonderful woman and her precious instrument. Soon, the blonde began to put it away. Packing up . . . leaving.
Her name! Her name! I need to know her name! Willow flipped the mike switch and frantically yelled, "Your name!" at a much higher decibel than she meant to.
A decibel that made the blonde jump out of shock. Nevertheless, she turned to face the booth and said in a distinct voice, "Tara Maclay."
"Thank you," Willow managed to whisper after a moment of letting her mind caress the name. But by then, the musician had already strode off the stage and exited her life.
Well, exited until the dress rehearsal the next day.
Tara Maclay. Even her name was a melody of beauty. Willow sighed and grabbed her cup of coffee. It was going to be a long day.
***
She could see herself in the mirror. Waiting in line for her tea left her vulnerable to the reflective rays of a glass wall. But the end result wasn'y that bad. She found herself staring at her replica with an amused smile. Of course only the two of them knew the reason behind the smile. It was their little secret. The encounter with "God" the techie left her tickled ?a wonderful relief from the stressful practices she had been enduring for the past couple of months.
Nervous did not even begin to describe the series of emotions that had coursed through her body up until the rehearsal. The future of her scholarship and musical education were riding upon the success of this concert. This was the sole reason she forced herself to practice until three in the morning, why she continuously wore out the pages of her score as she reviewed the notes, why her heads shook at the mere thought of the concert. And then, to have entered the hall in that condition only to experience such a delightfully absurd amount of hilarity was amazing to say the least.
I should really thank God. Both of them. In person too . . . well, one of them at least. She was eager to have a tete-a-tete with the disembodied voice that had made the mini-rehearsal such a pleasure. To see the face that belonged to such a quirky sense of humor, which Tara already adored.
"Excuse me?" The blonde was shaken from her little reverie by a young teenager who was moving a coffee cup in her direction.
"Huh?"
"Miss, black earl gray tea with milk and sugar?"
She looked curiously at Tara who had seemed to still be off in her little world.
"Oh yes." Tara blushed furiously at being caught unawares. She gingerly juggled her cello case and her new cup of tea as she made her way to the entrance. The musician frowned when she read the 'pull' sign taped next to the door handle. "Um . . ."
Suddenly a hand shot out to grab the handle. "Let me get that for ya." Tara turned to find herself face to face with a tall brown-haired man. He wore a silly boyish grin on his face as he managed to open the door from behind without getting wacked by her cello case.
"T-thank you." She gave him a small grin in appreciation for his kindness and made her way down the block back to the music conservatory.
"Not a problem," he softly replied as he watched her back recede into the distance
***
Tara was thoroughly giddy. The funny encounter with "God," and the small yet kind act by the mane at the cafe lifted her once anxiety stricken spirits. There's good in the world even if it was just in small bites. Sort of like mini M&Ms. Yummy chocolate in tiny candy shells. Yum. She chuckled at her comparison of kindness to processed sugar.
Throwing her finished cup of tea in the trash, she made her way toward the practice rooms. With a loud and somewhat raucous roommate like Anya, practice rooms were the only safe places to practice her cello. Absentmindedly humming her piece, Tara reached her favorite practice stall which was nestled in the far corner of the hall. It had one window that allowed her to watch the world outside, but it was still small enough to provide her with a nice sense of security. Ah, security.
She sat down onto a familiar chair and placed a familiar cello between her legs. With her eyes closed, Tara moved the bow thoughtlessly, letting a melody pass across the strings and reverberate in her ears as the bow moved as if of its own accord.
And as the music crawled languidly across the room, her mind meandered once again. Staring at the clear expanse of the sky, Tara recalled her rehearsal. The voice. The humor. The comfort and yes security. The charade had kept her calm, soothing away her nerves and covering her in a goose down blanket to keep the chills of anxiety and self-doubt away.
Yeah, I definitely need to thank that techie somehow. Maybe a gift or a card. Something wonderful.
Suddenly, Tara realized that her music had stopped. Whoops. Okay Tara, concentrate now. No busy thoughts. The cellist grabbed her worn score out of her cello case and opened it to the back. She would work the piece backwards, from ending to beginning. With her brow furrowed, she repeated her routine just like every other day, allowing the music to consume every ounce of her mental energy.
As time passed, fatigue ate away at Tara's body. It protested the several hours Tara had spent sitting in a chair. Her shoulders ached with the continuous repetitions of difficult passages. She let her arms hand muscle-less at her sides as she sank back into the chair.
"Ugh," she groaned. Her sweaty back pressed against the unyielding surface of the chair. She felt disgusting and sweaty, but strangely enough, peaceful as well. She had practiced to the point of death and she knew she had it down. So now, she could rest. At home. In bed.
She gingerly stretched out of her chair and quickly packed her instruments away. Oh, ouchies . Moving her arms too much proved to be a little too much pain for the blonde. She looked through the window and saw that the sky was darkening with the approaching night. Despite her body's protests, she hurried in hopes of beating the dark. She disliked walking through the campus alone at night despite the fact that she did it quite frequently due to her practice habits. She hurriedly gathered her belongings and left the practice room, making sure to close the door with an audible click. Yet as she walked hastily toward the exit, she failed to notice the forgotten hat that lay at the edge of a chair.
***
"Hello?" Tara answered her phone with the roll of her eyes. The only person who would call her now was Anya who was presently pulling on her mother hen feathers. It was endearing to know that her roommate was worried about her but these phone conversations disturbed since they always seemed to migrate to the topic of sex. Anya would start speculating about the "real reasons" why Tara was out so late. These reason being that Tara was having a torrid affair with a nymphomaniac who refused to release Tara until they had many many hours of "hot gay lovin'" as Anya put it. And each phone call ended with some variation of "Can I watch?" coming from Anya's mouth. Tara would have found it amusing if she though Anya was joking, but the roommate was quite serious in her request.
Tara continued walking to her off-campus apartment as she half-listened to Anya's "theories". As she crossed the street, Tara checked her left to look for any approaching cars. However, she failed to check for approaching pedestrians and soon hit another body in a head-on collision.
"OUCH!" The man rubbed his butt which had cushioned his fall after he walked into the blonde.
Tara, who was still standing, rushed over to kneel down next to the man. "Oh my goodness! Are y-you okay??"Her eyes did a quick scan for any injuries and opened wide as they met familiar brown eyes.
"Oh hey," the man grunted as he got up. It'a the tea girl. So this is the thanks I get for being chivalrous and holding a door open for ya?"
Tara was horrified at her lack of consideration and began to apologize profusely: "I'm so sorry. I d-didn't see you. Goddess you aren't hurt are you?"
"Actually, I am." Tara"s blue eyes grew even wider as she checked him again for any injuries she might have missed before. The man then pouted and said, "My feelings are so terribly damaged."
At first confused by his comment, Tara opened her mouth to repeat her apologies, but instead, a chuckle came out of her mouth. It was an infectious chuckle that soon had the two of them erupting in laughter at the silliness of their encounters.
BLEEP!
They both turned around, shocked, to face the headlights of a large SUV. "Get out of the damn road," the driver yelled.
The two looked at each other sheepishly and called out a quick "sorry!" before hurrying to the safe car-less sidewalks.
There they stood. The man finding the concrete ground intensely intriguing. "So . . ." He shifted his weight from one foot to the next.
"So . . ."
"I'm sorry. I'm so rude. I completely forgot to introduce myself. I'm so inconsiderate sometimes, just kinna go and bump into people without ever telling them who I am.? He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "I'm Xander. Xander Harris." He held out his hand which Tara grasped with her own.
"T-tara Maclay. Nice to meet you Xander." She allowed her crooked grin to slowly show on her face.
"Uh, likewise."
Uh oh. I know that look. It's hopeful. Oh damn . The gleam of hope in Xander's eyes told Tara exactly why his eyes refused to move off her face and it crushed her. Why can't I just have a friend. For once. One lousy friend. "Soo . . ." Tara suddenly had to urge to get away very quickly.
"Do you want a cup of coffee?" The question slipped out of his mouth before he knew what was happening.
"I don't drink coffee."
"Um . . . then some warm beverage that we can drink to fill out tummies?" The hope was really killing her. She didn't want to hurt the nice guy.
"Okay, alright," Tara conceded. "But, just one."
They began walking side by side to the caf?where they had their first encounter. Xander was practically bouncing down the block. "One's a-plenty, Ms. Maclay."
Tara let out an internal sigh. Oh boy.
***
The two settled into a little table in the corner of the caf?each holding a steaming beverage. Tara uneasily played with the string of her tea bag, afraid of having to reject this seemingly nice man.
"So Tara, do you go to the local university?" The smile just did not leave his lips.
"Y-yup." Her eyes darted around the cafe as she downed her scalding tea as quickly as possible. She had been sitting there for five minutes already and the sooner she left, the better.
"I myself never found higher education as my true calling. Now, carpentry. That's me. Just call me Joseph." He was oblivious to her discomfort and was intent on enjoying the most of this time.
"Uh huh." There was still so much of the tea left to drink. Damnit. Why didn't I say half a cup or a thimble-full. I obligated myself to an entire cup. Stupid Tara. Xander let out a laugh seemingly at his own joke, but Tara merely responded with a pained smile.
". . . and then Willow runs out screaming in her underwear. It was hilarious. And then Buffy and I were just chasing her around the block with baby frogs." The man let out another laugh and then looked at Tara to see her reaction to his little story.
Wait, Willow? Buffy? Who are these people? Confusion was etched in her facial features as Xander continued to stare at her. "Hehe. That was funny."
That comment clued Xander in. He looked absolutely crestfallen after hearing Tara's comment. He knew he was dealing with an uninterested party. "Um, so you want to go right?"
"Yes, I mean no. It's just . . ." The sad puppy-dog expression on the man's face tugged at her heart, making her feel like an absolutely horrible person. "You're not a b-bad p-person. And the story was f-funny, it's just that . . ."
The man shook his head in disappointment. "No, I get it. Just no interested. Thanks for having tea with me anyhow." His shoulder slumped, but just as he was about to get out of his chair, Tara grabbed his arm.
"N-no, no, no, it's n-not that r-r-really." She really did not want him to leave on that note.
"It's okay. You don't have to lie." He tried to tug his arm away from Tara but she held fast. He turned his head toward her and quirked his eyebrow in question.
"X-xander, listen. I'm g-gay!"Tara explained in a loud voice at the exact same moment everyone else in the caf?decided to stop talking.
"OH! Oh . . ." The man scratched his head and then noticed the many other cafe patrons who had heard Tara's admission. "Uh, um . . . hehe." He gave a weak smile as he understood.
Tara by that moment was comparable to a ripe tomato. Realizing that she had just outted herself to an entire cafe she ducked her head in an attempt to hide behind a curtain of her long blond hair. She moved closer to Xander and whispered, "H-hey. L-let's go. Now." She was now the one tugging to get away.
"Most definitely." Xander was embarrassed enough and he wasn't even the one who outted himself in public. The two rushed toward the exit as the male and some female patrons began to leer at the blonde's back.
By the time they reached the sidewalk, Tara's skin refused to return to its normal color, but the nighttime provided enough cover so that her embarrassment didn't stand out like a beacon of light.
Xander noticing that the blonde was still horribly embarrassed chuckled and urged her toward the campus. "I'll walk you back to your dorm. Embarrass-free. On my honor."
Yet Tara remained still. "Oh, I live off campus. It's that way." The blonde gestured toward her left.
"Really? Me too. I mean that's the direction home is for me too. Come on." He held out his arm to link with hers. "I'll walk ya, mi'lady."
Smiling, Tara linked their arms together. "A-alrighty."
The couple chattered comfortably as the two made their way to Tara's home. Tara learned that Willow and Buffy were childhood friends of Xander who both lived in the area as well. She was thoroughly able to enjoy the man's humor during their walk since she didn't have to worry about sending him any "signals" that could have been misunderstood. As she became more at ease with Xander, her stutter began to slip away more and more. When they reached the front of her apartment, Xander insisted on following her up to make sure that she wouldn't be locked out or anything. Although, he didn't have to insist much. The blonde was enjoying the conversation they were having and wasn't ready to end it so quickly. They were getting to the good part.
-Ding-
The elevator doors open on the fifth floor of the building, allowing the two to continue on down the hall until they reached Tara's door. As she reached to put her keys in the lock, the door burst open as an irate and anxious blonde brought Tara into a bearhug.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!? I called you two hours ago! You said you were making your way home. I tried calling, you wouldn't pick up! It's pitch black outside!" The blonde continued to rant as Tara made her way into her apartment, dropping her keys and cello case on a chair. All the while, Xander stood, shocked, in the doorway of the apartment. He hadn't expected such a welcoming committee for his new friend and was baffled by pretty much everything this blonde was saying.
"Anya. Anya. ANYA. I'm fine. S-see, un-hurt." Tara grabbed her best friend's hand. "Though it's very n-nice that you worry so m-much. I'm s-sorry to have made you so a-angry."
"You better be," Anya said indignantly. "I was going out of my mind. I mean, there's just so--"
"And besides, Ahn, I was with Xander." The musician motioned for Xander to step into the apartment.
Anya turned her head in surprise as she didn't know about the other witness to her little rant. Her eyes found themselves in direct contact with brown ones that held a hint of humor and amazement.
"Hi," he exclaimed warmly as he made a small wave. "It's my fault Tara was out so late. I insisted on buying her a cup of tea."
The roommate stared at the man as if he had grown an extra set of scrotum on his forehead. "You know Tara's gay." For the second time that night, Tara's skin flushed red with embarrassment.
Xander was taken aback by the loud woman's willingness to out her roommate. "Oh, well, she told me."
Anya turned abruptly to her friend. "And you still had coffee with him?" she asked incredulously.
"I am allowed to do that, Ahn."
The irate blonde looked between her roommate and the man. "I just can't . . . you're . . . this is . . . UGH!" And with that exclamation Anya stormed towards her room and slammed the door.
Tara shot an apologetic look at her new friend. "Um, s-so that's Anya. R-right now's not the best moment for her."
"I can see that. I'll just get and go. Angry blondes, well, scare me." He walked back out to the hallway and said, "Goodnight Tara. It was really nice to meet you."
"Likewise." The cellist closed the door and sighed. She would have to comfort her friend later. Right now, the only thing that she wanted to do was sink into the comfort of her tub. Yum.
***
A lone figure walked through the halls of the practice rooms. Occasionally opening a door and peeking in, the person seemed to be going through rounds of some sort. Willow made her way through the maze of practice stations checking for any leftover musicians or suspicious objects. But all the redhead really wanted to do was retire to her bed. Her entire day was spent in the tech booth where she played with her lighting and listened to the music and demands of each performer for the concert. Her only relief that day was the blonde cellist. A Ms. Tara Maclay. The woman sighed at the thought of her "angel" Happily she replayed her moments with the cellist as she continued to check through the plexiglass doors of the practice rooms.
Oops. Something caught her eye as she was passing by a certain room. Willow entered her master code to open the door and poked her into the room to find a brown hat lying on a chair. Someone'll be missing this. I guess I better take that with me. The redhead grabbed the hat and went along to finish her rounds. Dropping the hat off at her office, Willow collected her belongings and exited the building.
Two more days of this and then I can rest. Two more days of Tara. I should really find out more about her. Not for a date or anything, just to get to know her. Or . . . maybe yes for a date. I mean if she wants to. Hopefully. Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar jingle of her cell phone. The woman checked her phone and then flipped it open. "Xander!"
"Wills, I just had the best day!" Her childhood friend sounded positively ecstatic. And it spread to her. She couldn't help but smile when she heard the joy in his voice.
"Spill," she ordered.
"I met this girl."
"Ooh, a girl. Xander you pimp."
"No, it's not how you think. She's not interested in me," he quickly explained.
"Oh, then how is that 'best day' material?"
"We just had a wonderful time hanging out. I mean you should really meet her. She's really funny once you kinna get through her shell. I bumped into her like twice today. First, I did want her to be interested but that wasn't happening, which is totally cool," her friend gushed enthusiastically.
"Wait so you were rejected but you still had a great time with this girl."
"Yup."
"And she didn't give you apology sex or anything . . ."
"Unless by apology sex you mean a cup of tea, no."
Willow paused in front of her apartment door to collect her thoughts. "You're seriously wigging me out Xan."
"Hey, she's just a nice person."
"Not nice enough to wanna date you though."
The redhead fumbled through her bag as she searched for her keys.
"Not her fault she bats for your team Will."
"Excuses, excuses."
"Your excuse for not dating me too," he retorted with an audible smirk.
"No my excuse for not dating you is that you're like a brother. It would be too incestuous."
"Right."
"So what's this wonderful girl's name?" Willow finally managed the very intellectual process of putting her keys into the door, unlocking said door, and then opening it to reach the interior of her apartment.
"Oh right. I didn't even . . . Tara Maclay."
[Like it? Hate it? Wanna throw a piano at me?]
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I do wonder how long this story will be since it seems Willow and Tara will meet quite soon. Maybe this will be a totally angst-free happy story then ?? 
I live to entertain. T'is my life's only purpose. Honestly. Actually my life's purpose is to entertain ONLY YOU. Really. Sorry, it's written in stone with fire and whatnot. Gotta do what I gotta do, ya know. 
claaaaassssic!
is soo close!
