Though I don't surf the board any more, I still have some very good friends that I've made here and one of them let me know that there has been a recent surge of interest in some fics I wrote nearly three years ago. I'm honored and humbled that so many of you still wanted to read them. It honestly means the world. I didn't save copies of these stories for personal reasons, but luckily one kitten did and was kind enough to forward a copy on. For those of you who still want them, here is Portal and Tightwire as they were originally posted. Thank you so much for your interest and I hope you get much enjoyment out of them.
All my best,
taraslove
ps. Thanks to Foo for the amazing artwork and for making this happen all over again.
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Title: Tightwire
Author: taraslove
Disclaimer: All BtVS characters are property of Joss, etc. All other settings and characters are completely fictional and mine, all mine.
Feedback: Absolutely
Distribution: Please PM me first.
Pairings: W/T
Rating: Builds up to NC-17; I faithfully promise the same level of smut in each chapter that I delivered in Portal
Summary: AU fic. Willow must come to terms with her new attraction for Tara. The long-promised companion fic to Portal!
Note: I promise smut and hotness, but I'm afraid I can't promise the frequency of updates that I had for Portal. My next fic (The Dark Folly) is well into the planning stages, and I will be posting on it before long. Tightwire is because I promised it and because Portal was so much fun to write. That said, enjoy!
Chapter 1
Willow Rosenberg stood ready.
The girl eyed her warily, and Willow tensed. In this job, you have to be ready for anything. And then the girl was running at her, hard. Willow bent her knees, flexed, and swung her arm around, flipping the girl effortlessly into the air. The girl landed soundly on her feet, and Willow turned, grinning.
“Good pass, Sam,” she said.
Sam beamed at the compliment. “Thanks, Willow!” she squealed and ran back to the line. Sam was a small girl, muscular and tanned. Easily the best gymnast on the team. Willow watched her return to her teammates and got ready for the next pass.
“Okay, Carly,” she called. “Give me all you’ve got!”
And Carly ran.
________________
Willow shoved her water bottle back into her locker and pulled out her keys. This has been the longest day of my life. I can’t wait to relax at Tara and Kylie’s. I love movie nights.
“Hey, Willow.”
The voice behind her startled her, and she spun on the balls of her bare feet, coming face to face with a well-built fellow coach. Willow’s eyes fell to the chain visible just beneath the collar of his red Canton Gymnastics t-shirt, and she looked up and met his eyes. Blue eyes.
“Oz!” Willow felt the grin stretch across her face. Too eager! You’re not playing it cool! Play it more cool! She forced herself to relax, leaning back against the blue metal of the lockers. She had meant it to be casual and, well, cool, but she had forgotten about her own locker door, still hanging open. She felt the corner of it gouge into her scalp and heard it clatter into metal as it swung wildly behind her. Her hand flew up and rubbed the throbbing spot on her head. That wasn’t at all humiliating. Not in the slightest. “Uh, hey,” she finally said, still rubbing her head. She could feel the bump forming already.
“Are you…?”
“It’s fine,” Willow said quickly, forcing her brightest smile.
“You’re okay?”
“Yep! I’m fine. Couldn't be better. Fine. Better than fine. Great, even!” Stop talking! That’s an order! Oz watched her, the amusement in his eyes digging at her. She dropped her hand and looked at him helplessly. “Can I help you?”
Oz chuckled. “Yeah. Jason asked me to get with you about Texas.”
Willow’s eyes went wide. “Texas?”
“Yeah. The exhibition? You're going, right?”
Oh god. Oz is going to Texas? I’ll be spending a whole week with Oz? In a hotel? In Texas? She realized that he was still watching her, waiting for her answer. “Yes. Yes, I’m going. To Texas, I mean.”
He was still smiling, his eyes dancing. “Great. I’m taking the guy’s team. Roger was supposed to do it, but he quit last week. Anyway, Jason needs permission forms by Tuesday and a list of parents who are coming as chaperones.”
“Right. Permission forms, parents. Got it.” Oz is coming to Texas. With me. Us, together.
“Alright, well. See you later, then.”
Willow nodded, her mouth agape with some unspoken witticism. He smiled one last time and was gone. Willow internally cursed her locked-up tongue. Next time, I’m not going for cool. Or witty. I’m just going to focus on getting some type of words to come out. You’re such a geek, Rosenberg.
She was still berating herself ten minutes later when she pulled her Volkswagen into a vacant space at Tara and Kylie’s apartment building.
Kylie opened the door to let her in. “Hey, Willow. Lasagna tonight.”
“Ooooh, I love lasagna,” Willow said as she kicked off her shoes.
Kylie laughed. “I know.”
Willow followed Kylie into the kitchen. “Where’s Tara?”
“Upstairs. In the shower.”
An image of Tara in the shower flew to Willow’s mind, unbidden. Soapy Tara. Wet Tara. Tara with her head thrown back and the spray of the water pelting down on her. Willow’s mouth fell open in sheer surprise at the thought and she shook the image from her head. Where the hell did that come from?
“Want a beer?” Kylie asked, putting plates on the table.
“Yes, please,” Willow squeaked, pulling open the fridge. “There’s one in here that’s half gone.”
“Tara’s,” Kylie said.
Willow stood up with Tara’s beer in one hand and a full one for herself in the other. She let the door swing shut and leaned back against the counter, watching Kylie work on the salad. “Want a hand?”
“I’ve got it,” Kylie said, smiling.
Willow heard a creak on the stairs, and she set her beer on the counter behind her, a wave of excitement washing through her.
Why do I feel nervous? It’s just Kylie and Tara. Tara.
Willow swallowed the dryness in her throat. Tara stepped off the bottom step and walked toward the kitchen, smiling. Her dirty blonde hair hung in curtains around her face, down to her bare shoulders. Her light blue tank top curved up under her full breasts and wrinkled down over her stomach, leaving an inch of brown skin gaping above the elastic of her plaid boxer shorts. From there, her smooth legs ran down for miles. Willow looked at Tara’s breasts again. Another image of Tara in the shower assaulted Willow’s brain, and this time she could see Tara’s chest heaving under the spray.
Willow glanced back up at Tara’s face guiltily. I can’t believe that I just thought about what Tara’s breasts look like! Tara’s my friend! I’ve never thought about another woman’s breasts before. Well, not naked ones, anyway. What does that mean? Did she notice? Did she see me? Oh god, what if she saw me?
Willow’s ruminations were interrupted by Tara’s soft, “Hey, you,” and Willow could not keep a foolish grin from springing up.
“Hey, you,” she answered – I hope my voice sounded like hers just then. I love the way she said that! – and held out Tara’s beer. Tara took it, still smiling, and then looked quizzically at Kylie, who looked up from setting the table, and received a slight nod. She ducked her head.
Willow felt a small surge of jealousy welling up inside of her, but she pushed it down.
What is wrong with me today? I'm all emotions, all the time. I’m probably just still spazzing about Oz going to Texas. That must be it.
“Did you have a good day?” Tara asked.
“Yeah, but I’m exhausted,” Willow said, arching back against the counter and stretching her arms above her head. “We’ve got Nationals coming up, and I got a new girl on the team today. I had her do all the skills she could, which isn’t many. She can’t even do a back walk-over. I’m really going to have to work with her, maybe suggest to her parents that she take private lessons with me on the side.”
Willow watched Tara take a drink of beer, her neck muscles convulsing as she swallowed. Willow licked her lips.
“Don’t you make like three times more doing private lessons than team coaching?” Kylie asked.
Willow grinned. “Yep.”
“Well, you’re a good coach, so I’m sure she’ll be flipping all over the place in no time at all, whether you give her private lessons or not,” Tara said quietly. Willow’s stomach swirled within her, and she felt elated at Tara’s words, her emotion erupting into a huge smile. How can one little word from Tara make me feel so much? I’m such a geek.
“We’ll see,” Willow said, dropping her eyes.
Tara took another sip of beer. “What’s Buffy doing tonight?”
“Date,” Kylie said, popping a sliced cucumber from the salad into her mouth. She crossed in front of Tara on the way to the table.
“Huh,” Willow frowned. “Who’s the flavor of the week?”
“A guy she met at the gallery, I think,” Kylie said.
Suddenly, Tara let loose a peal of laughter, and Willow jumped. Her laugh. It’s almost musical. I could listen to it all day long. The realization startled Willow. What is the deal? Now I’m thinking about Tara’s laugh? Get a grip on yourself, Willow.
“I meet all the same people in the gift shop that Buffy meets guarding the collection,” Tara was saying. “I never get asked out, and she gets asked out several times a week. I – I just thought that was funny,” she added, her voice trailing off.
Wait a second. She’s jealous of Buffy? The Buffy who has the crappiest love life on the planet? Tara was watching her with blue eyes. Intense blue eyes.
“You want to get asked out by the same people?” Willow asked.
“No,” Tara said quickly. “I just think it’s funny that Buffy has a two or three first dates a week. I swear the guys only come to the gallery so they can talk to her.”
Why does the idea of a bunch of guys hitting on Tara make me so crazy? “So, you want to get asked out by people at the gallery?” Willow pressed.
“Um, no. I don’t think that’s what I said either. Kylie, is that what I said?” Tara grinned.
“Not what I heard,” Kylie smiled. Willow rolled her eyes. Thanks a lot, Kylie. Way to be help girl. “Anyway, grub’s on.” Kylie set the steaming lasagna down on the table, and Willow and Tara joined her at the table.
There was a comfortable silence as the three friends helped themselves and began to eat.
“So,” Kylie finally said around a mouth of garlic bread. “What movie shall we watch tonight, ladies?”
Tara chewed thoughtfully for a moment and said, “The Italian Job?”
I love that movie! “Yes,” Willow agreed eagerly. “That’s perfect! I love that movie. That guy with the computer cracks me up.”
The look on Tara's face confused Willow. Is Tara frowning? I wonder why. She’s the one who picked the movie.
The girls chatted and relaxed as they finished up. Then, they jumped into the routine they’d established over the past few weeks. Willow began clearing the table, Tara rinsed plates and fitted them into the dishwasher, and Kylie packed the leftovers away in the fridge.
When the kitchen was clean, Tara popped the movie into the dvd player and settled onto Kylie’s bed in between her friends. They sat in the same places every movie night. Sometimes they had popcorn or ice cream. They almost always had another beer.
The three of them started out on their stomachs, propped on their elbows. Willow was really enjoying the movie, but she couldn’t shake the image of Tara she’d made for herself earlier. Why would I imagine Tara in the shower? She’s my friend. I don't think of her like that. So why do I keep thinking of her like that?
Tara stirred on the bed next to her, crossing her arms, and sliding her left hand under the peak that her armpit made with the comforter. And then Willow felt the most wonderful feeling in the world. Slowly, softly, Tara’s fingers brushed Willow’s arm just above the elbow.
Willow gasped. She’d never felt anything so good. I’m so confused. Tara’s touching me? And I really like it? It's... totally... confusing. Please, Tara, do it again.
Slowly, Tara stroked her fingers up the back of Willow’s arm again, lightly scraping her nails at the top of the stroke. Willow sighed. Can you just do that to me forever?
She closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of Tara’s fingers on her skin.
Tara dragged her fingers back down Willow’s arm, and Willow felt a slow ache spreading through her stomach. I’ve never felt this way before. She imagined Tara’s hands lightly stroking other places on her body. Her shoulders. Her back. Her stomach. Her mouth twitched at the thought, and the warm feeling spread wider throughout her belly.
What I wouldn’t give for more of this. How can I let her know that it feels good? That she makes me feel good.
Tara dragged her fingers again, and the answer came to Willow in a flash of instinct. She leaned into Tara’s caress, felt the response of Tara’s fingers, and her breathing hitched. God, I’ve never felt this way.
They spent the rest of the movie that way, Tara’s fingers secretly making love to the skin on Willow’s arm. When the credits rolled, Willow felt disappointed. Can’t we just stay here on the bed? Touching? What is going on with me?
Tara walked Willow to the door.
“Bye, Kylie!” Willow called, and Kylie shouted back from the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth, “Bye!”
Is Tara blushing? Why can’t she look at me? Maybe she’s embarrassed. Of course she is. She didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand. Heat of the moment and all. How can I tell her that it’s okay? That whatever she wants is okay? Willow held her gaze until Tara looked up, blue eyes meeting emerald. Tara smiled, a shy smile.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Willow asked softly.
“Mmm-hmm,” Tara ducked her head. “For lunch?”
“Sounds good.”
“Goodnight, Willow.”
“’Night, Tara.”
A small, unsure smile later, and Willow was out the door. Willow drove home in darkness, emotions and thoughts of Tara whirling in her head. What is going on with me? I’m attracted to Tara? I can’t be attracted to Tara. I like Oz. And Tara’s a girl. Willow stared into the night as she drove. Do I like girls? I’m so confused.
She made it home and fell into bed fully-clothed. And the dreams that followed did nothing to relieve either her confusion or her arousal.
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Chapter 2
Willow was dreaming.
She was at the gym, and it was dark. There was moonlight filtering in through the long, narrow windows that lined the gym walls near the ceiling. She was looking for someone.
Everyone’s gone home, Will. It’s just us.
“Tara?” Willow felt the words in her throat, but no sound came from her mouth. Tara walked to her slowly, her face illuminated by the moonlight pouring down over her. She was radiant. Angelic.
You don’t have to talk. Tara herself spoke without speaking. And Willow felt it to her core.
Tara’s fingers grazed the back of Willow’s hand, gently, seeking. Willow longed to look down, but she dared not draw her gaze away from the calm blue eyes that held her so tightly. Slowly, Tara guided Willow’s hand. Up. Up, through moonlight. Holding it to her. Touching her heart.
Willow felt the fabric of Tara’s shirt beneath her palm, the heart beat below. Tara’s lips tilted in a slow smile.
You don’t have to speak, Willow, because I can hear you. I’ve always been able to hear you.
Tara’s voice was deep and melodic, a song that Willow’s soul had sung to itself a hundred times in solitude.
She was surprised. She had never seen Tara in this light before. There was something…
“Tara,” Willow said, and it was enough. Tara stepped closer. “I feel like we’ve always been together. In the worlds before this.”
Tara smiled.
We have. In every world before. In every world to come.
And then Willow was moving, drawn, unable to stay away. Tara called to her. She allowed her lips to brush gently against Tara’s and felt their warmth, their fullness. There was never a nectar so sweet.
Willow shifted, brought their bodies closer, felt the heat between them. Slow and burning. Tara slipped an arm about Willow’s waist as the kiss deepened, and Willow allowed herself to be pulled, to feel the fullness of Tara’s body. The kiss broke softly, and Tara sighed Willow’s name against her lips.
And the moonlight was their witness.
Willow awoke. She lay for a moment in her bed, in the dark of her own room, and trace her lips slowly with her own tongue.
And she remembered her dream.
“Oh boy,” she said to the darkness.
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The next day at work, Willow found it extremely difficult to concentrate. She led a tour at 10 and forgot the names of two artists and several paintings. She even skipped, quite deliberately, her favorite painting in the whole gallery: a portrait of a young girl, lounging on a red chaise, naked with her back to the world.
What’s wrong with me today? Willow tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Gee, I wonder. Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with dreaming about making out with one of your best friends, could it? She finished with the tour and took the long way around to her office, intentionally avoiding the gift shop where Tara worked. It’s just a dream. Doesn’t mean anything. So why should I have to be all avoidy today? I always go to the gift shop to see Tara after a tour. Why should today be any different?
She did not answer her own question but went straight to her desk and buried herself in research for the next hour.
Her neck was starting to get stiff when she heard a noise at the door, glanced up and saw her friends. Where did the last hour go? I’ve been so into researching that I forgot I had lunch plans with Buffy and Tara.
“Hey! Is it lunchtime already? I was trying to get some research done before I leave for the gym,” Willow said.
“Coaching or working out?” Buffy asked, plopping down in a chair by Willow’s desk.
“Neither. Private lesson. Jamie’s parents bring her to the gym after school. I’ve got a few hours.”
Willow shut her computer programs down. How can I face Tara after dreaming about kissing her? I am in totally uncharted territory here. How am I supposed to act? What if I look at her and want to kiss her? What if I don't?
“Where are we going for lunch today?” Tara asked hesitantly.
She sounds so sad. Why is she sad?
Willow couldn't help it; she looked up, locked her green eyes with Tara’s blue. I could look into her eyes for forever. I really think I could. Just sit here and … stare. The corners of Willow’s mouth curved up slowly. I wonder what it would be like to really kiss her. Oh god! I want know what it would feel like to kiss her! The warmth was spreading again, through her belly, and Willow felt the color rise in her cheeks. What is going on with me today?
“Chinese?” Buffy asked, oblivious to the tension that was mounting.
“O-okay,” Tara said.
“Fine by me,” Willow said easily, dragging her eyes to Buffy. I have got to get a grip on myself. Do I like Tara? Is that what this is? Well, stranger things have happened. Not to me, but still. Willow felt her grin deepen. There was a kind of freedom in the thought. Okay, so what if I do like Tara? What then? Either she likes me back or she doesn’t. Either way, I need to wait for more information. See where it goes. Good. That’s settled.
Tara let out a soft sigh, which went unnoticed by Buffy, who had stood up and was walking to the door. Willow, on the other hand, arched her eyebrows. Tara flushed. What kind of sound was that? A good sound or a bad sound? There obviously is some kind of connection between us.
She stood up and crossed to Tara, stopping a few inches from her. God, she smells good. Right. Definitely attracted. No doubt about that.
“You, um, you look really nice today,” she said, dropping her eyes and letting them linger for a moment on Tara’s chest. My god! She’s so… so… Um. Is abundant the right word? I wonder what they feel like. Waiting! Tara’s waiting for me to stop ogling her boobs and finish the thought! “I really like that top,” Willow said, ducking her head and offering a shy smile. Way to find the flimsiest excuse known to man! You just checked out her boobs right in front of her. And liked them! Buffy! Where did Buffy go?
She grabbed her jacket and hastily followed Buffy out the door.
And she missed the smile that Tara threw out behind her.
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Chapter 3
What is going on with me?
Willow sat stiffly in the driver’s seat of her black Volkswagen Jetta and gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. Buffy sat in the passenger seat, watching the trees go by out the window, deep in an explanation of some new guarding procedure at the gallery. Tara sat in back, just behind Willow, and if Willow leaned just so, she could catch a glimpse of Tara’s oceanic eyes in the rearview mirror.
Her eyes are amazing. They’re even bluer than Oz’s eyes, if that’s possible. Willow flexed her fingers around the steering wheel. Stop it! Stop thinking about Tara’s eyes. It’s distracting. They're distracting. Willow smirked to herself. There’s really no comparison anyway.
As Buffy talked, Willow drove and eventually she smelled the most wonderful smell wafting from the backseat. Eucalyptus. Tara smells like eucalyptus. It smells so good.
Before she could stop it, a vision flashed in her mind of Tara pressed up against the door in Willow’s bedroom, her head thrown back, opening and closing her mouth in silent gasps while Willow was buried in her neck. She closed her eyes and smelled Tara’s eucalyptus and imagined what it would be like to nuzzle into her. What the skin of her neck would feel like on Willow’s nose. On her lips. And then she remembered she was driving – driving a car! Never close your eyes when you’re driving a car! That’s, like, the first rule of driving! – and opened them again. She threw a guilty look sideways at Buffy, who seemed not to have noticed.
I’ve got to get out of this car. That smell is making me crazy.
They couldn’t reach the Chinese restaurant fast enough. When they did, she whipped her Jetta into a space and jammed the gearshift in park. She threw herself out of the car, slamming the door behind her. I can’t believe how good she smells. I can’t believe how it’s affecting me. I have got to get a grip.
She waited for Buffy and Tara on the sidewalk, her jacket folded over her crossed arms. Tara approached her on the sidewalk, looking apprehensive.
“Um, Willow? Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yep,” Willow said, sounding very much like everything was not okay. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you seem a little jumpy,” Tara said slowly.
“I’m not,” Willow said quickly. “No jump. None at all.”
“Are… are you sure?” Tara asked, and Willow nodded. Tara’s eyebrows creased and she looked like she was going to say something, but Buffy interrupted.
“Are you guys coming?” she asked, holding open the door.
Willow followed her hastily inside, Tara right behind her. It was crowded, and Willow could feel Tara behind her. Tara’s shoulder brushed Willow’s shoulder blade more than once, and Willow shivered. I’m so attracted to her. I’ve never been like this around anyone. Not even Oz. I can feel her breath on the back of my neck. I can’t believe how good it makes me feel. I wonder what it would feel like for her to kiss me there. Willow tightened her arms around her jacket, shaking her head slightly, attempting to clear the thought from her mind. Okay, that’s not a good place for my mind to go in a crowded restaurant. She took a deep breath. Calm down. I’ve got to calm down. But all I can think about is what it would be like to have her kiss my neck. It’s like she keeps rubbing up against me on purpose. Maybe she likes me. Oh god, what if she likes me? Willow made a somebody-help-me-now face. I should say something charming. Or witty. Or, heck, just saying something would be good.
They reached the booth, and Willow spun abruptly, half afraid that she’d lose her nerve or babble or… Or something worse. When she saw Tara’s face, all thought fled her brain. Tara’s eyes were aimed low, apparently focused on Willow’s back, and they were the most intense shade of blue Willow had ever seen.
Tara’s eyes fluttered up to Willow’s face, and she blushed.
“Uh, aren’t you freezing in that?” Tara’s eyes drifted down again to Willow’s black shirt that was cut in a low V, front and back.
Was she just… she was checking me out! When the realization dawned on her, Willow grinned. “Nope.”
“Oh. Just wondered, you know, because it seems like it’s forty degrees outside today,” Tara said.
Did she just roll her eyes? God, she’s so cute. Well, if it’s Shirt Appreciation Day, I don’t want to be left out. Though technically, I already appreciated her… um, shirt once already. Once more couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, if you’re going to take the trouble to celebrate a holiday, you might as well go all out.
Willow’s eyes dropped down, and she allowed herself to look at Tara’s long-sleeved blue shirt for the second time. There was a patch of skin visible at Tara’s midriff, and it clung nicely to her stomach. Willow’s eyes followed Tara’s body up and stopped at her breasts. Oh dear god in heaven. Tara’s nipples were clearly visible through the cotton material. Willow swallowed.
“The real question is, are you warm enough?” Willow asked in a voice too low for Buffy to hear. I can't believe I just said that. What will she think of me? She slid into the booth, saw Tara glance down and quirk her eyebrows. I shouldn’t have said that. I crossed a line. God, I crossed a big line. At least she’s sitting next to me, so I won’t be tempted to stare at her nipples all day long. And now I'm thinking about Tara's nipples. And Tara knows that I'm thinking about her nipples. Oh, boy. I really need to calm down. This is nuts.
“Uh, Buffy, could we switch?” Tara asked Buffy before she could sit down across from Willow. What? “I think I might have to use the b-bathroom soon and I don’t want you to have to get out to let me out.”
“Sure, Tara,” Buffy said, crossing to Willow’s side. “No problem.”
Tara slid into her side of the booth directly across from Willow and leaned back into the red vinyl.
Oh, great. Tara-nipples at twelve o’clock. How am I supposed to keep my mind out of the gutter during lunch? I’ll just have to concentrate. I can’t even look in her direction once, or I’ll stare at her breasts. I know it. I wonder what they look like. I wonder what they feel like. Willow Rosenberg! Focus! What’s Buffy talking about? Help me, Buffy. Talk about boys or something. I can do this. Don’t look at Tara. Don’t look at Tara. Don’tlookatTara!
It seemed to Willow that the waiter took an extra long time to come take their order. She was nearly sweating with the effort of not looking at Tara. When he finally arrived, all three of them ordered and he left, and Willow had so far succeeded.
Buffy was talking about work, and Willow was relieved. She was telling a funny story about one of the guards on his first day at the gallery, and Willow grinned, risked a glance at Tara. She’s so beautiful. It’s like her soul is right in the front of her eyes. Oh boy. Do I really think she's beautiful? You know you do, Rosenberg.
They ate, and Buffy talked, and Willow kept her focus away from Tara’s breasts, for the most part. Even with all her self-control in high gear, she still risked a glance here and there while Tara was busy cutting her food or watching Buffy. She really is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. What does that mean?
And then, lunch was over, and Buffy was standing and pulling on her jacket.
“Seriously, girls,” she said, “I’m about to give up. I can not get a relationship off the ground, no matter how nice or mature he is. It is not meant to be, I think.” She sounded half frustrated, half amused at her own plight.
Tara grinned goofily. “Maybe you’re gay.”
Willow’s eyes went wide. Did she just…? She just insinuated that Buffy's gay. God, she is so cute.
Willow glanced at Buffy, who looked shocked. Tara looked back and forth between Willow and Buffy, her face twisted, her eyes clouded.
She thinks she’s upset Buffy. Willow opened her mouth to laugh, agree, say something – say anything! – to let Tara know that Buffy wasn't upset, couldn't be upset. But it was too late.
Tara stood and bolted from the table.
“Tara just insinuated that you’re gay,” Willow said softly when she was gone.
“Yes, she did.” Buffy turned, looked at Willow and the two of them burst out laughing. “Who would’ve thought that Tara would have said anything like that. Funny.”
“She thinks she's made you angry,” Willow said, still smiling at the joke. “It was funny though.”
“Who knows? Maybe she’s right. I can’t seem to keep a guy around much longer past a first date. Maybe I should ask a girl out. It could solve a lot of problems.”
“I think that Melissa at the gallery likes you. You should try her.”
“Really? Melissa, as in Research-and-Developmenty Melissa? You think she likes me?”
Willow nodded, still smiling. “She’s totally into you.”
“That wouldn’t freak you out?” Buffy asked seriously, and Willow almost laughed.
Yes, Buffy, it would freak me out. Just as soon as I’m not absorbed with fantasizing what it would be like to suck on Tara’s neck. Ooooh, that would be good. “Um, no. It wouldn’t freak me out. At all.”
“Huh,” Buffy said. “Good to know. Maybe we should go talk to Tara.”
“Don’t have to.” Willow pointed. “Here she comes.”
“Buffy,” Tara began slowly, folding her arms across her chest. Buffy interrupted her.
“Tara. It’s okay,” she said softly.
“I’m really sorry,” Tara said, her head down. “I didn’t mean anything. It just came out.”
“Tara, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Buffy said. “I was surprised, sure, but only because you’re not usually so –“ Buffy frowned.
“So, what?” Tara prompted.
“So say-whatever’s-in-your-brain. That’s all, I swear. I mean, come on, everyone knows that I have a lot of trouble with the men in my life,” Buffy laughed. “It’s not that far-fetched a conclusion. So, chill out, yeah?”
Tara smiled hesitantly and dipped her head in a nod. See? All better. Buffy's not freaked. Willow opened her mouth to make a remark about Buffy maybe asking out Research-and-Developementy Melissa, but Tara turned without looking at Willow and hurried to the counter to pay her bill. That’s weird. Why is she okay with Buffy, but she wouldn’t even look at me?
Buffy offered Willow a gentle shrug and followed her friend to the counter to pay for their food.
Buffy and Willow walked to the car in silence. Tara was already in the backseat, and Willow tried to smile at her through the window, but Tara didn’t look up from her hands folded in her lap. I should give her space. Not push her. But she won’t even look at me. She didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong. So, what’s with the awkwardness? Weird.
They rode back to the CAMA silently. Buffy kept trying to make small talk, and neither Willow nor Tara responded much. Willow parked, and Tara disappeared to the gift shop. Buffy followed Willow up to her office.
“You should talk to Tara,” she said, sitting down at Willow’s desk.
“Um, it kind of seems like she doesn’t really want to talk,” Willow said. She gave Buffy a half-smile and shrug. “She’s being all leave-me-aloney.”
“Well, funny thing about Tara is, she gets kind of embarrassed sometimes and doesn’t know how to get out of it.”
“So you’re saying… what, exactly?”
“The best thing to do is show her that it’s no big deal and move on. She’ll bounce back.”
“I don’t know… It doesn't seem like she wants to bounce back.”
“Trust me. She just doesn’t know how to get herself out it, I swear. It's nothing worse than that. She’s just embarrassed. Help her out. You’ll both feel better.” Buffy stood up to leave. “I’ve got to guard a tour.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later?”
Buffy smiled. “Count on it.”
Willow sat down at her desk. This whole day has been so strange. I can’t stop myself imagining what it would be like to kiss Tara, to move my lips over her neck… Willow closed her eyes. Now I’ve gone and lost my train of thought. Oh. Right. Me, fantasizing about Tara all day. And then she gets herself so embarrassed that she refuses to even look at me? But she's okay with Buffy. Huh.
Willow’s eyes widened. Maybe… what if she likes me?
___________________________
Willow’s thoughts were on Tara all through her private lesson with Jamie at the gym. She tried her best to concentrate, but she just couldn’t get Tara’s blazing blue eyes out of her head.
After Jamie left, Oz trotted over across the mat. “Hey,” he said.
Oz! Willow smiled. “Hey.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked. “You seem kind of distracted tonight.”
Willow stared at him. She couldn’t help comparing his eyes with Tara’s. How could he possibly tell that I’m distracted? Does he really notice me? Like, notice me, notice me or just the regular kind of notice me? And now I'm even starting to confuse myself. Somebody help?
“I’m fine.” She tried to smile. “I’m just… there’s a lot going on right now, and I’m not sure… I’m fine.” How can I talk about this with Oz? There's no way.
“Well, if you ever need to talk…” he nodded, leaving the sentence unfinished. Where is this coming from? Why does he care if I’m distracted? Do I care that he cares if I’m distracted?
“Thanks, Oz.” Willow tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. He’s definitely cute. But am I attracted to him? I thought I was. But… do I want to kiss him? Do I think about him like I’ve been thinking about Tara? I have thought about him that way. But it… it doesn’t have the same… effect on me. Not anymore.
He smiled. “No problem.”
He walked away, and Willow stood for a moment and watched him. Huh.
As she drove from the gym, Willow replayed in her mind how Oz had looked at her, what he had said. I do like him. But I’ve never gotten as turned on thinking about him as I do when I think about Tara. Oz is Oz. But Tara. She turns me around completely. What does that mean?
Before long, Willow realized that she was driving to Tara's apartment. Buffy says to talk to her. Help her out of her embarrassment. I want to talk to her. I want to be with her right now.
With a new purpose, she drove to Tara's house, stopping at the video store on the way. When she finally got to Tara's house, she took a breath, knocked on her door.
Willow stood on Tara’s front step in her black velvet pants and green sweatshirt. When Tara opened the door, Willow’s breath caught in her throat. Tara was wearing ragged gray sweats and a dark blue tank top. She’s amazing.
Willow nervously held up an unpopped popcorn packet and a dvd.
“You’re not in the mood for a movie night, are you?” she asked hesitantly. What if Buffy was wrong? What if I really should be leaving her alone? I’m going to make things worse. What if I make things worse?
To Willow’s delight, Tara grinned and stepped back, inviting Willow in. And Willow couldn’t help but grin impishly back.
=========================================
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Chapter 4
Willow stood on the front stoop, Tara’s porch light casting a buttery light over her. Willow allowed her eyes to drift over Tara’s bare shoulders before flickering to her face. What if she’s still upset? Maybe I should leave her alone tonight. Buffy always thinks she’s knows what everybody’s thinking, but what if she’s wrong? Buffy-shmuffy. I should be doing what I think is right. Right?
“Can I come in?” Willow asked.
Tara grinned. “Absolutely,” she said, stepping aside and holding the door wide for Willow. As Willow stepped inside Tara’s apartment, she felt all of her inhibitions tighten around her. What am I doing here? I should be at home, pining over Oz or planning the trip to Texas or… something. I'm asking for trouble. Tara closed the door and bolted it, and Willow felt like she was in the middle of a magic trick. You won’t want to miss this next trick. Let’s see if the Magnificent Willow Rosenberg can escape her chains before she succumbs to a most painful death by drowning.
“Is Kylie here? I didn’t see her car.” Willow said nervously, kicking off her sneakers by the door. Please let Kylie be here. My safety’s in numbers.
“Nope.” Tara smiled hesitantly. “Just us tonight.” It’s over. I’m dead. Death by drowning. “Uh, what movie did you bring?” Tara’s voice startled her out of the caricature of a funeral that was already flicking through her mind.
“A sad one,” Willow said. “I haven’t seen it yet. It’s about a little boy who gets abandoned by his mother, I think.” Her eyes widened. Oh god, what if it upsets Tara? She's had so much heartache in her life... Willow searched Tara’s face anxiously. “That’s not going to be too close to home, is it?” She continued to look concerned until Tara assured her that she would be able to handle it.
“You know I don’t cry for movies,” she teased. “Real life is sad enough.”
Okay, mellow out, Rosenberg. You’re wound way too tight. Relax. You can do it. Just –
“Yeah, well,” Willow said, “I’m breaking you tonight.” She waggled her eyebrows, and Tara’s face flushed. She mentally thunked herself on the forehead. Nice. I’m going to have to work on my definition of ‘how to relax.’
“Come on, you,” Tara said. “Let’s get the popcorn popped and the beverages served up.”
Now, that I can do. “Oooh, sounds like a party,” Willow said gleefully, clapping her hands. She followed Tara into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while Tara set the popcorn to popping and rummaged in the fridge, clanking bottles and shifting plastic bowls.
“It’s ridiculous that two girls should have this much food,” she grumbled into the fridge. “I thought there was some beer back here somewhere.”
Wow. Tara has a really round… Okay, mister! Stop it! This is not an okay road to go down about one of your friends. You don’t think about Buffy that way. She wrinkled her nose. Ew. Definitely not. She giggled. Come on, Tara, stand up already. I’m having enough trouble thinking innocent thoughts without you ben— Did she just wiggle at me?
“Here you go,” Tara said, finally pulling out of the fridge and handing a bottle to Willow. She held up her bottle expectantly, and Willow clanked hers against it, laughing. “Cheers,” Tara said. That smile. She’s beautiful. Even in old sweats and a tank top, she’s beautiful.
“Cheers to you,” Willow said. She took a long pull from her bottle. Do it. Buffy said that it’ll help. Just say it. Be brave. “Tara, listen. I’m really sorry about today.” See? That wasn’t so bad. Little Toaster, eat your heart out.
Willow could see Tara tense, even though her back was turned as she pulled the bag of popcorn down from the microwave, and she felt a pang at causing the blonde further embarrassment. Tara took her time digging a bowl out of the cupboard and shaking the popcorn into it before she mumbled “uh, okay.”
Buffy says she’s just embarrassed. The sooner we deal with it, the sooner it’s over. We’ll move on, and tonight will be fun. Willow took a breath, forged ahead. “I know you don’t talk about your feelings much, but it was honestly just one of those things, and I wanted you to know that it’s okay.” Still, no response from Tara, and Willow continued. “I could tell how upset you were, and I wanted to make you feel better, but I just didn’t know how. I’m sorry.”
Please look at me, Tara. Let me see those big blues.
Tara turned slowly, focused on Willow, and Willow was struck. Oh, wow. I’ve never seen anything that color before. There’s never been anything…
“It was a really stupid thing to say,” Tara mumbled, and those beautiful orbs shifted, leaving Willow alone.
Do something! Get them back!
“Well, maybe it wasn’t the best timing in the whole world, but there’s nothing wrong with what you said. Nothing,” Willow said, searching her.
They're back. Okay, Willow, just hold on to that blue. Wow. I mean, wow.
Tara stared at her as Willow took another swig of beer, desperate to appear casual while she burned from within. It was a delirious feeling, and it made feel reckless. Invincible. She did what any other invincible-feeling girl would do in her situation: she babbled.
“Heck, Buffy even admitted that, based on her track record, it wasn’t a terrible conclusion. You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes you’re too hard on yourself, Tara.” Willow felt alive. She was soaring. Breath coming shallowly. There was a look in Tara’s eye – Behind the blue! Inside the blue! – that she couldn’t identify, but she wanted more of it. It crackled, and she couldn’t stop herself. The babble lurched forward again. “You’ve got to admit, it’s even kind of funny when you think about it, suggesting to Buffy that she might be gay in such a nonchalant manner, like it was obvious to everyone but Buffy.” It’s true. I don’t think anyone has ever told Buffy that she’s gay before. It was actually kind of… Willow lost her thought as she realized that Tara was smiling the most dazzling smile she’d ever seen. Oh, wow. Tara’s smile twitched, and then Willow realized that she was hearing that laugh. Tara’s musical laugh. The laugh that floats and, and... the laugh that you can touch. It’s a tangible laugh, that's what it is. And I want to touch it forever.
And then Willow laughed with her, and it was a good feeling. A relief. It’s over. No more embarrassment. Buffy was right. Willow thought about the implications of Buffy being right yet again. Damn.
“Thanks, Will,” Tara said softly.
I love it when she calls me ‘Will.’ Sigh. I could look into her eyes forever. But that's bad. Now is for talking. Why aren't I talking? Say something, you dummy! “You’re quite welcome." Very smooth. “Now. Movie?”
Tara laughed again. “Movie,” she agreed.
They settled together into the couch while the movie was starting. It played for awhile, and Willow felt her muscles stiffening. My shoulders feel like setting cement. So what else is new?
“Are you sore?” Tara’s voice was low. Willow didn’t look at her, but she imagined that Tara would be picking at her sweats, eyes down, hair curtained around her face. Beautiful. Will I ever stop telling myself that? That Tara is so incredibly gorgeous? Willow reflected, Tara's face clearly in her mind. She sighed. Not likely.
“Yeah,” Willow admitted. “I had kind of a rigorous workout tonight. It’ll be okay in the morning.”
“I could rub your shoulders for you,” Tara offered quietly. “If you want.”
Willow smiled. “You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” Tara insisted.
“Well, I won’t say no,” Willow grinned. “But promise you’ll stop if you get tired.”
“I promise,” Tara agreed. She pointed to the floor in front of her. “Sit.”
Willow situated herself cross-legged on the floor in front of Tara and leaned back against the couch, Tara’s legs on either side of her.
“Uh,” Tara began and Willow craned her neck.
“What’s wrong?”
Tara pulled at Willow’s thick sweatshirt. “This is just a lot of material to work through. Do you mind changing into one of my t-shirts?”
Willow giggled. “Not to worry!” She shrugged off her sweatshirt, revealing a black tank top underneath. “Is that better?”
“Uh, yes.”
Willow waited. Nothing. She tried to watch the movie. Still, nothing. Then, slowly, softly, Tara’s hand snaked up her shoulder blade, following Willow's collarbone and dipping down over the flat part of her chest before curving back up to the round of her shoulder. Willow's breath hitched on its own, and her insides did a triple twisting double back layout. Oh, god, that feels so good. What did I get myself into? Okay, focus. This can be normal. A backrub between friends. Normal. What would be a normal reaction for me right now?
Willow wriggled her shoulders back and forth, hoping she conveyed a childlike excitement and not signs of the tingle she was feeling at Tara’s slow touch. Tara's left hand mirrored her right's movements, and Willow closed her eyes. Tara began rubbing her thumbs in small, tight circles, sinking them deep into the fleshy part of Willow’s shoulders. That feels so good. I wonder how strong her hands can be.
“I like it hard,” Willow said, hoping to find out.
There was a slight pause and then Tara rubbed first in small circles and then in larger ones, alternating speed and pressure. Willow felt strong fingers on the tops of her shoulders while Tara’s thumbs pushed down and out over her shoulder blades.
Oh god. A groan rumbled in Willow’s throat, and Willow’s eyes flew open. That wasn’t good. Tara’s gonna think I’m… I don’t know what she thinks. I know that I’m enjoying this way too much. Tara stilled her movements, her thumbs digging into Willow’s skin.
“What?” she asked, and Willow could hear the worry in her voice. Great. Now she thinks she’s done something wrong. Please don't get freaked, Tara. Don't stop. What can I say so she knows that I don’t want her to stop? The direct approach?
“Do that again,” Willow said. “That’s such a good spot.”
Willow could have sworn that she felt a slight twitch of Tara’s knees at her shoulders, but Tara merely resumed her movements, working the tension out of Willow’s muscles.
She massaged Willow’s shoulders and worked up to her neck, rubbing deep into Willow’s hairline and the tendons at the top of her spine. When Tara’s strong fingers caressed the skin behind Willow’s ears, she shivered, but Tara didn’t seem to notice. The fingers moved down, working, rubbing at the muscles that led up under Willow’s armpits, and Willow allowed her eyes to drift closed once again. She could feel what Tara’s touch was doing to her, could imagine what Tara’s touch could do her.
For over an hour, Tara rubbed her hands all over Willow’s back and down her sides, over Willow’s ribs and back up to her neck, teasing the sensitive spots behind Willow’s ear. I wonder if she knows how good that feels, that spot back there that she can't seem to stay away from.
Willow eventually abandoned her effort to control her groaning and sighing and focused simply on communicating to Tara how good she was feeling.
I don’t care what the “normal” reaction is supposed to be anymore. I just don’t want her to stop touching me. It feels so good.
Once, she allowed herself to roll her head back and whisper with closed eyes, “Tara, you have the softest hands.” She kept her eyes closed when she said it because she was afraid to see the shock on Tara’s face. Afraid that she'd overstepped the boundaries between friends. That there would be disgust written there and that Tara would stop. What if Willow was enjoying this too much? After all it was just a backrub. She shouldn't be having this reaction. It was platonic. That's all it should be. But still, backrub or not, Willow Rosenberg had never felt this way before. Like she couldn’t get enough.
When the movie was over, Tara walked Willow to the door and waited while Willow slid her sweatshirt over her head. Can she tell that I’m about to fall down? I’m shaking. I've never felt this shaky before. What is going on with me?
“I’m glad you came over,” Tara said. “I felt like such an idiot today. I was convinced that things would be too awkward for us to hang out.”
Tara Maclay, wild dogs couldn't keep me away from you. Especially not now that I know what soft hands you've got. “Hey,” Willow said softly, and Tara looked at her with those blue eyes that were fathoms deep. “Always feel like you can talk to me about anything. Always.” Willow wanted to touch Tara, stroke her cheek, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and feel its softness. But she restrained herself. That’s definitely beyond the boundaries of friendship. She’d think it was weird.
Tara nodded, and Willow continued. “I will admit that I thought about letting you be for awhile just to let you relax about the whole situation, but Buffy said that you get embarrassed sometimes and that sometimes you might need a little help out of it. I thought that maybe this was one of those times, and I took a shot.”
Tara smiled her half-smile. I’m going to fall down if she smiles like that again. “I do get lost sometimes.”
“Well, now when you do, you know that I will find you,” Willow said. Was that too weird to say to a friend? No, I don’t think so. Friends would find each other. Right?
They stood that way at the door, emerald locked into azure, and suddenly Tara giggled. Willow tried her best to crook an eyebrow. “You talked to Buffy about me?” Tara asked. Willow smiled. She’s so beautiful. No, that's not a big enough word. Gorgeous. She's gorgeous. I wish I could tell her how beautiful she is. She’s got to know, right? I mean, you can’t look at such a breathstealing face in the mirror every morning and not notice it. You just can’t.
“Well, you know, I didn’t want to cross any lines,” Willow said. No lines being crossed here. We’re friends. Friends who stay on their own sides of lines. “I didn’t want you to think you needed checking up on or anything.”
“Sometimes I do. So, thanks for checking up on me,” Tara said softly. “But, really, I am an idiot sometimes.”
“You’re not,” Willow said firmly. How can I get her over this? It’s so not a big deal. And idea came to her, and she grinned. “Overreacters of the world, unite?”
And Tara grinned back. “Absolutely.” How can I feel so electric when she smiles like that? It’s like I’m… plugged into her. Is that a normal friend thing? Feeling plugged in? “Goodnight, Will.”
“Goodnight, Tara.”
When Willow got home, her skin was still aflame from Tara’s touch, and she said a silent thanks to nobody in particular that she had worn her tank top that evening. She folded herself into bed and closed her eyes, amazed at how vivid her memory was. Like Tara was right there with her, still touching, still caressing. She didn’t have to try at all to remember the pressure of Tara’s hands on her skin, trailing her ribs through the cotton of her tank top, skirting the sides of her breasts. She shivered.
No, she had never felt this way about any of the friends she’d had in her short lifetime, but all it took was one more indulgence in the memory of Tara’s warm hands squeezing her muscles, and the memories of all of her other friends were forgotten in an instant. She was left alone in the dark with that one gorgeous face etched into her mind and one soft pair of hands trailing hotly over her.
And for Willow, in that moment, whether it was normal friendship behavior or not, it was enough.
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Chapter 5
NC-17 still (just to be safe)
You can do this, Rosenberg.
Willow stared at the phone on her desk and blinked.
You can.
She leaned back in her office chair, rocked back and forth slightly. It was Monday, and the CAMA was closed. Willow liked working on Mondays. It was quiet and there weren’t usually any tours to distract her. Today, she didn’t need a tour to be distracted. She was doing a bang-up job of that on her own.
Why is this so hard? Just call her and ask her. What’s the worst she could say?
Somehow, the unspoken question seemed to bolster her courage. She bit her lip and dialed. The phone rang once. What’s the worst she could say? The phone rang twice. What’s the worst she could –
“Damn it, Anthony, what do you –” Tara began.
Willow sat up straight in her chair.
“Rough day?” she interrupted tirade against Anthony before it got embarrassing.
“Oh, hey Willow. Sorry. Guess I should’ve checked the caller ID first.”
“It’s fine.” Willow swallowed her nerves. Just ask. She’s Tara. It’s okay. She’s just Tara. Willow closed her eyes. No. Not just. She’s Tara. God. I can’t do this. The phone cord twisted itself around a shaky finger. Deep breath. “Um, Tara, I was wondering if you’d… maybe… want to have dinner with me tonight.” Okay. So it’s not the most romantic way to ask someone out. It’s lame. I’m lame. “If you’re not busy,” Willow tacked on helplessly.
Is that what this is? Am I asking Tara on a date? We eat dinner together all the time. What makes this… situation… a… a date? Um. Datelike? I have no idea what I'm doing! God, somebody help!
“Oh, uh, d-dinner?”
Is she freaking? She’s freaking! Stay focused, Rosenberg. “Um, yeah. We could meet at my apartment?”
“Uh, at your place? Sure.”
She said yes? She said yes! Well, technically, she said ‘sure’… That’s close to yes, right? I mean, at least she didn’t laugh. Or hang up on me. She could’ve hung up on me, but… she said ‘sure.’ Why is it all silent-y all of the sudden? God, I’m babbling again. Say something, you doofus! But don’t overdo it. Play it cool. “Great! Is seven too soon?”
…
Excellent job playing it cool, Casanova. It’s not difficult at all to see why you’ve never been laid in your life.
“I think I can manage to be there by seven,” Tara said. “I’m coming from a meeting with Anthony. I’ll stop by when I’m done. Can I bring anything?”
Okay. Okay. You know? This isn’t turning out so badly. Willow couldn’t contain her smile, and she hoped Tara could hear it in her voice. “Nope. I’ve got everything at home.”
“Okay. See you at seven.”
“See you then, Tara,” Willow said. I can’t wait. She replaced the phone on the cradle and extracted her fingers from the phone cord. She checked the clock on her computer, her smile still stretched across her face. It was only three o’clock. Four hours.
God. Four hours.
Willow knew what she had to do. She shut down her computer and went to find her boss.
If this isn’t a good reason to go home early, I don’t know what is.
Willow spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning her apartment and starting dinner. She was straightening a stack of gymnastics magazines when Tara knocked on the door. Her heart leapt within her chest, and she hurried to the door and flung it open, breathless and grinning.
“Tara!”
She showed Tara in, and Tara draped her jacket over the back of the chair just inside. Willow motioned for Tara to make herself at home. “Something smells good,” Tara said.
“Thanks,” Willow said, heading back through the living room. “It's tilapia and wild rice. Is that okay?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Willow smiled. “Good.”
Tara followed her and sat at the breakfast bar, and Willow went to work in the kitchen, her thoughts buzzing in her Willowbrain.
She looks amazing tonight. She’s just so incredibly beautiful. Her skin looks so soft, and her eyes just… God, they control me. And her lips… Willow lost herself in the image of tracing her thumb over Tara’s full bottom lip. In her mind, Tara’s head tipped back and her breath came up shallow. Her lip gloss coated Willow’s thumb as Willow caressed her longingly. Tara leaned into Willow’s hand, her eyes closed, and Willow… jerked out of her daydream with a jolt. Tara was still sitting at the bar, smiling. Did she notice that I spaced? Wow. I never thought anyone could affect me the way she does.
Okay. Okay, right. Gotta focus. Willow turned her attention back to dinner, extended a slender pale arm above her head to get a glass down from a high shelf.
She heard it then, behind her. A noise, soft and… what? What was it? Willow thought that she had heard it before. Whatever it was, whatever it meant, she felt a pull from within and she couldn’t control the desire to take Tara in her arms and hold fast. She turned to Tara for... anything, really.
Tara looked flushed and was engrossed in lining up the knives and forks. She did not look up. Willow sighed and filled the glass with water, trying desperately to push down the swelling inside of her. I just wish I could sort all of this out. What am I doing?
Be her friend, Einstein. Just be what she needs.
“Hey,” Willow said softly, and Tara finally looked up, still pale. “Dinner’s ready.”
They ate together, Willow talking about her day at the gallery, Tara sitting by her side. It felt right. It felt… Perfect.
After the meal was finished – “Delicious, Willow,” Tara had said and then blushed – Tara moved to clear the plates from the bar, and before Willow could stop herself, she caught Tara by the wrist mid-air, stopping her.
Tara looked at her, her eyes wide. Amazing eyes. Eyes that house a whole world. A world I want to live in, just me.
“Leave them,” Willow said. They were so close...
So. What’s the plan now, Rosenberg? It seemed like such a good idea at the time, snatching at Tara’s wrist. But now here you are, holding her, – and it feels wonderful to be this close to her – but what’s the next move? Are you going to kiss her? Taste her skin?
Willow fought to keep her eyes open. She felt intoxicated. Okay, get a grip, Willow. You’re practically mauling her. Willow forced herself to smile what she hoped was a casual smile. She released Tara’s wrist and said, “Movie time," and then moved to the couch quickly to hide the blush that was spreading over her cheeks.
“O-okay,” Tara said. God, I’m awful. I’m freaking her out. It just seems like whenever I’m around her, I need to be touching her. I can’t help it. Right? Can I help it?
Willow sat down on the couch, fretting about her developing feelings, and watched Tara, who was staring at the floor.
I freaked her out. She’s all catatonic-y now, and it’s because I manhandled her. (Womanhandled?) I’m screwing this up. I just need to back off a little. I can do that. I'll just be all... uh... back-off-ey. Back-off-ey?
“Want to sit?” Willow asked hesitantly.
“Sure,” Tara said. She smiled shyly and dropped softly on the couch.
Okay, Will. Focus on the movie. Try not to think about the goddess sitting right next to you on this couch. Over the next hour, Willow managed to follow the plotline of the movie on a basic level. She was hyper-aware of Tara’s body, but she was somehow able to laugh at the right places. At some point, Tara curled up on her side with her head on the arm of the couch.
I wonder if she’s feeling okay. Here I am, all these first-kiss scenarios rolling through my mind while I’m pretending to watch this ridiculous movie, and she’s lying there tired or upset or… god, what if she’s hurt? What if something happened at work today and I'm being all Mr. Insensitivity?
What can I do? It wouldn’t be wrong to let her know that I’m here without, I don’t know, crowding her? Would it? I just... want to touch her so badly.
Willow watched Tara’s side rising and falling for a few minutes before she made up her mind. Slowly, she reached out and her fingers touched Tara’s knee. She couldn’t help it – even through Tara’s jeans – touching her felt so right, and Willow closed her eyes and let her head drop back on the couch. Her fingers curled themselves slowly into the crook of Tara’s knee. Tentatively at first and then with increasing pressure she began kneading Tara’s calf muscle, digging in the tender flesh just behind the knee.
Wow. I’m rubbing Tara’s leg. Okay – god, the heat is coming off of her in waves – keep it… relatively chaste. You’re not allowed to fondle her in her sleep. This is about letting her know that you’re here. You’re here for her. That’s all.
That’s.
All.
So, chill, Will. I said 'Chill, Will.' Hee!
The fingers curled into her again, and Willow allowed herself to smile. This is what I was made for. Touching Tara. I don’t ever want to stop.
Willow played with Tara’s knee for the rest of the movie and was slouched over, nearly lying on top of her by the credits.
They lay like that for twenty minutes after the movie ended, Tara leaning on the couch arm, Willow propped half on Tara’s ass, rubbing and kneading her leg. A half an hour. Forty five minutes. One solid hour.
Finally, Tara stirred, mumbled, “Willow, I’ve got to go. It’s two o’clock in the morning.” She sat up lazily and began to pull on her sneakers.
I wish you could stay.
Alright, time to focus. You’re one juiced up little kitten, Willow Rosenberg. What would be a good friendly mcfriend thing to say right now? Something other than “please stay in my bed tonight and let me touch you forever and ever?”
“Kay,” she finally said sleepily. Tara stood and Willow followed her to the door. “I’m glad you came over, Tara. I had a fun time.”
Tara smiled and pulled on her jacket. “Me too.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight Willow. Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.” Tara's smile was just... breathstealing. She's amazing. What am I doing? Someone like her could never want to be with someone like me.
The door closed and Willow watched through the window as Tara walked to her car. But she seems to like being around me. I feel like we're so... good together. Like, we're only for each other. What does that mean? Then, she dumped their plates in the sink and switched out the lights before climbing into bed.
In the dark, she closed her eyes and was flooded instantly with the image she had before of Tara leaning into her touch. Fantasy-Tara bit her bottom lip and let her head roll back, whispering, “Oh, Willow.”
Before Willow could stop herself, one hand was squeezing her own breast, pinching at her nipple through her tank top, and she was moaning fantasy-Tara’s name back to her and writhing beneath her comforter.
I wonder what it would be like to feel her fingers in my wetness? Against my clit?
“I want to touch you, Willow,” fantasy-Tara moaned into her ear, and Willow’s hips jerked up off the mattress.
“Please,” she whimpered out loud in the dark. “Please, Tara. I need you.”
And then her hand slid down her panties, through the wetness - there's just so much of it - and when her own fingers touched her clit, they were Tara’s. Her lover’s. Tara's fingers on her, inside her. Tara's hand at her breast. Tara's mouth on her neck.
She gave a soft cry as fantasy-Tara pinched her clit, and she rocked up into her own hand. “Harder, Willow.” Fantasy-Tara’s breathing in her ear. “Come for me, lover.”
Willow's hips jerked up one last time as the warmth spread through her belly and the lights flashed behind her eyes. She kept her fingers swirling against her clit until the waves of pleasure subsided.
Until she was simply shuddering.
Until she fell exhausted back into the sheets, still reeling from Tara’s fingers taking her apart.
Her last thought before sleep claimed her was of snuggling into Tara's bare chest and breathing in the sweet scent of Tara's skin.
And she never slept so well.
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Chapter 6
It had been three days since Willow had first let herself touch Tara, and they had spent every evening since much the same way – tucked into Willow’s couch, Tara reclining, Willow’s rough hands caressing her skin. Tara had taken to wearing shorts, and Willow secretly hoped that it was because of her own touch.
Over those few days, Willow drifted through her tours at the CAMA and her coaching, thoughts of Tara filling her brain every other second. Her legs are so smooth. And long! My god, are they ever long. And I could look into those big blue eyes for weeks on end. The off-seconds were filled with Willow examining her feelings for Tara. She’s just my friend. That’s all. My very amazing, incredibly gorgeous friend. That’s okay, right? I can think of my friend as pretty. I think Buffy’s pretty. It’s not the same. You know it’s not. I just don’t see Buffy that way. I tried to think of Oz that way, and – well – that’s just funny now, somehow. It’s okay. I can do this. I can just be her… friend. I can.
…
Even if she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Those were the thoughts tramping through Willow’s brain as she dragged herself to the gift shop that morning. Well, those and also, You want this. It will be worth it. Just ask her. Tara was in the gift shop, straightening the postcards in the metal rack, her back to Willow.
“Tara?” Willow hesitated. This is a bad idea.
Tara whirled, knocking a stack of postcards off of the counter and sending them skittering across the tile floor. Willow stared at her, eyes wide, and Tara looked at the postcards for a moment and then back to Willow. Willow racked her brain for something to say – anything to say! And then Tara’s eyes crinkled, and she laughed before stooping to scoop up the postcards.
“Sorry,” Willow mumbled, dropping to one knee and sliding the scattered postcards into a pile.
“No, it’s my fault,” Tara said, still smiling. “What brings you down to Gift Shop World? Tour today?”
Tour! Tour is why you’re here! Ask her. Ask. Her. “Yeah. Hey, that’s actually why I’m here. Would you, um, would you like to come?”
