Okay, here's mine. I know I've kind of lifted seriously from 'Amends' towards the end but hey, what do I care? And I'm fully aware of the similarities between some images in this fic and a certain, ahem...magazine we might have laid our sweaty little hands on lately.
Anyway, enjoy.
P.S. Who can get the hidden references to certain amusing chat things in there? No prize, but kudos may be yours...
I've called it:
Or A Very Cool Christmas To You TooIt was the hottest December anyone could recall in Sunnydale history, which, given that most of the Sunnydale Memorial Library and Hall of Records had been eaten by a snake demon in ’65, was not bad going, historically.
Giles felt a bead of sweat on his forehead herald the unceremonious slippage of his glasses, from the top of his nose the to tip, where he flared his nostrils in annoyance, shoving once again at the offending item, bringing the book in front of him into focus.
“Really,” he muttered, slapping a damp hand down onto the book in front of him, casting a baleful look around the magic shop, where Willow and Anya had squabbled, but had finally hung the season’s greetings banners.
“Giles, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were Mr Cranky today,” Willow leant towards him as they sat at the table. She visibly recoiled at the look he gave her, pulling a face of her own and shifting her chair another few inches away from him. “I only asked,” she muttered to herself.
The jangling of the bell alerted Giles, who sat up in his chair, an expectant smile on his rather flushed face. As Tara entered, however, his expression fell and he turned back to his book, his lips mouthing words Willow wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.
“Hey,” Tara walked down the couple of steps to where Willow and Giles sat at the table and grinned over at her girlfriend.
“Hey,” Willow eyed the Popsicle that Tara was sucking on with not a little envy, “I don’t suppose you got one of those for me, did you?”
Tara smiled, “No, I don’t suppose I did.” She sat down next to Willow and held out her hand, “You can suck on mine though.”
Giles looked up, his face flushed even more. Neither witch could imagine why, as Willow opened her mouth and just rubbed the tip of the Popsicle up and down her tongue. She shot a grateful look across to Tara, who smiled and sat back in her chair.
“So Mr Giles, what have you discovered about why it’s so hot?” Tara puffed her cheeks out and attempted to blow cool air up to her forehead. However, she only succeeded in circulating the warm aura that constantly seemed to follow her around. She frowned; she’d forgotten what it was like to be cool. Ever since this warm front had moved in two weeks ago. It made everything so….she glanced over at Willow, who was merrily devouring the Popsicle; well, it made everything so sticky. God knows, she and Willow had hardly touched each other in a week. Which was making what the redhead was doing with that Popsicle even more interesting.
Giles was poring over his book again, furiously pushing at his glasses. Tara noticed a strange energy coming from him; his aura was coming off him in deep black waves. Not a good sign.
“This could be perfectly natural,” he said, his voice booming as it echoed up from the pages of the book, “It could just be a natural phenomenon.” He looked up at the two witches, “Or it could be some kind of enchantment.” His fingers reached up to push at his glasses again, his mouth twitching in annoyance.
“Well, how about you take some camomile tea, Mr Giles, ‘cause your aura’s really pretty scary. And Willow and I will look into this. Yes?” Tara’s brow furrowed as she observed the aura of the Watcher deepen and thicken. It was like treacle, she thought, then wondered where the hell that image had come from. She didn’t even
like treacle…
“Yes, alright, but please girls, be safe.” Giles began to tell them, but they were up and out of the magick shop before he could warn them about other dangers lurking in the world of the mystical.
“Right. I’ll have that tea then,” he said, his glasses slipping once more. This time, he ripped them off and threw them onto the book, where they landed with a dull plop. “Bloody tea,” he muttered.
“You know, this weather’s not making people happy,” Tara said, as she and Willow walked down Main Street. The blonde was glancing around and seeing deep black auras wherever she looked. It was unsettling.
“Honey, not everyone likes heat,” Willow reached out and grabbed Tara’s hand, holding it for a second before they both let go, with a rueful smile. Their palms were all sweaty and clammy; not the most romantic of feelings.
“No I know,” Tara said quietly, her eyes seeking out Willow’s for a second, “But you know, I’ve never complained about heat before…”
Blushing slightly, Willow coughed her embarrassment away and looked off down towards the end of Main, where it met with the intersection. Just over the other side of the road was a building that still had decorators swarming all over it. Billboards and posters were pasted all around town, advertising the opening night tonight. It was some kind of jazz club, Willow remembered from the advertisements.
“Why don’t we go there tonight? For a change?” she turned to Tara, who followed her gaze as she looked back at the club. “They’re doing poetry tonight, I mean, jazz poetry. Sounds like it could be kind of cool.”
“Jazz poetry? Isn’t that just talking to a drum beat? And lots of people snapping their fingers? Uh…aren’t we supposed to be checking out this heat thingy?” Tara balked. She noticed the look on Willow’s face and relented, nodding a quick ‘okay’.
“Well yeah,” Willow shrugged, “But even witches get time off. Besides, I’ve heard that Laidback Len is performing tonight. Apparently he’s like, the coolest man!” She held up her fingers in the peace sign, puling a goofy face that made Tara giggle. Then, glancing at her watch, she swore quietly under her breath, “I gotta go honey, I promised I’d meet Buffy for some serious shopping like, ten minutes ago. How about I pick you up at eight?”
Tara nodded. Jazz. Willow and Jazz. Willow, heat and Jazz. Quite a combination.
At precisely eight that evening, a knock on Tara’s door alerted her to the fact that Willow was here. She glanced at herself in the mirror again, her face wearing that look of worry when she was uncertain about anything. Her eyes rolled up and down her reflection, wondering if she had time to change. Another knock, this time more insistent, told her that she really
didn’t have any time to do anything apart from answer the door.
So she did.
As Willow stepped inside, she swung around to look at her girlfriend. And the smile fell from her face like ice cream off a cone on a hot sunny day.
“You don’t like it do you?” Tara asked nervously, stepping from foot to foot.
“Uh…” Willow’s eyes swept up and down her girlfriend again. She just wanted to check that Tara was dressed the way she was. Yep, she told herself, she was. Tara was wearing a pair of tight blue shorts, so tight in fact, that they looked sprayed on. Instead of a top, she had on a skimpy vest number, that was see through in parts and revealed to the world (and to Willow at this precise moment) just how shapely Tara was underneath her usual attire of baggy sweaters.
Her legs were bare, apart from an ankle bracelet that Willow had given her for her birthday. And on her feet, she wore a pair of high-heeled shoes that Willow had once named ‘whore’s shoes’. Looking at them again now, the redhead decided that
that name had been particularly apt.
“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Tara sighed, pulling at her top, lifting it up as though to take it off. It only managed to reveal a good expanse of flesh. Tara tummy. Willow stared a bit more. “I was just so hot and this is like, the coolest thing I own,” Tara added, “Well, you know, not cool cool…more like cool. You know?” She knew she was making about as much sense as Willow in full-on babble, but wanted to fill in the silence somehow. Feeling Willow’s eyes on her like that was making her uncomfortable. But kind of in a good way. “I’ll take it off,” she added, her mouth turning downwards.
“No, Tara, no. Um…no,” Willow managed to speak, although her mouth was pretty dry. She put out a hand and laid it over the other girl’s, trying to think. “I was just surprised, that’s all. You’ve never looked so…ah…”
“What? Stupid?” Tara grimaced.
“Oh no,” Willow took a step closer to her, “not stupid. That’s really not how I’d describe it. You look…” her mind flickered back to a magazine she’d gone through with Buffy, the two of them huffing and puffing at how some of the pictures denigrated women in some way. Some cute redhead had been posing with a lot of tools in much the same kind of outfit Tara was wearing right now. Willow remembered that she had had quite a job getting Buffy out of the shop so that she could scurry back inside on some pretence and buy the magazine. “You look really sexy,” she finished, finally.
“You’re just saying that.” Tara was a little disgruntled. She pulled at the edge of her top again, revealing a little more Tara tummy.
“Yeah, I’m saying it because it’s true,” Willow moved closer. Somehow the night didn’t seem very hot anymore. At least, not outside. A smile curved the corners of her mouth and she completely forgot about the Jazz club. In fact, as she slid her arms around Tara and drew her in for a kiss, feeling the warm, pliant flesh underneath her hands, she mostly forgot about everything.
When the two girls parted, Tara shivered. She wasn’t sure if it was because of Willow’s touch or something else. But she did notice a draught coming from her open window. Frowning slightly, she moved to the frame to shut it, and her eye caught something outside. Red, amber, green and blue specks of light descending over Sunnydale; spreading out and glistening over the town in the black night air. A breeze, passing by, caught Tara’s hair and flicked it over her shoulder.
“Willow, just come here,” Tara beckoned the other girl, grabbing her hand and pulling her close as they watched the lights moving over the town, dancing in the night like coloured fireflies.
“What is it?” Willow whispered.
“Auras,” Tara answered, her own voice lowered to a whisper, “Happy auras, going to the people of Sunnydale. And the temperature’s gone down too. Can you feel it?”
Willow looked at her girlfriend and smiled at the blonde’s obvious pleasure. She watched as the lights passed by them, moving to different rooms and windows along the side of the dorm.
“Why aren’t we getting one?” she asked, as Tara turned from the window.
“Maybe we don’t need a happy aura.”
“Hmm,” Willow pulled Tara close to her again, “Maybe we don’t.”
The blonde shivered; this time it was with cold and she turned to close the window, then stopped. Her eye widened and she pointed. “Oh my god…Willow! Willow, look!”
Following her outstretched finger, Willow’s gaze noticed first one, then two, then several flakes of white drift down towards the ground. Snow. It was snow. Tara pulled down the window and put her arm around Willow; the two of them standing by the window, just watching the flakes drift down to cover the ground in a sheen of white. It might be gone by tomorrow, Tara thought to herself, but it was beautiful, right here and now.
“So pretty,” she murmured, laying her head on Willow’s shoulder.
The redhead cast a glance down at the girl next to her; the skimpy clothes, the exposed skin, the sweetness of her lips. She sighed a happy sigh and smiled. “Yep,” she answered softly, “There’s something you don’t see everyday.”
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"She looked across at Willow, whose face was filled with light. She had never felt so calm and happy, and strong..." ~ Unseen: Door To Alternity