Anyway, you're great.
Ange.
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"Things are not always what they seem to be...." Shakespare.
"Once you're fallen for me, you stay fallen..."
by Ange » Thu Mar 28, 2002 12:04 pm
Anyway, you're great.
Ange.
------------------
"Things are not always what they seem to be...." Shakespare.
"Once you're fallen for me, you stay fallen..."
by Drakkenfyre » Thu Mar 28, 2002 12:47 pm
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"We few, we happy few.."
"We band of buggered.."
by tommo » Thu Mar 28, 2002 1:13 pm
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You know I've been through hell...Joss can't you see, there'll be nothing left of me. You made me believe...
by Dumbsaint » Thu Mar 28, 2002 5:26 pm
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Shiver me timberless.
by tommo » Thu Mar 28, 2002 6:23 pm
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You know I've been through hell...Joss can't you see, there'll be nothing left of me. You made me believe...
by Dumbsaint » Thu Mar 28, 2002 6:24 pm
*bends over and grabs her ankles*
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Shiver me timberless.
by tommo » Thu Mar 28, 2002 6:26 pm
*inserts fic where the sun don't shine*
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You know I've been through hell...Joss can't you see, there'll be nothing left of me. You made me believe...
by Kieli » Thu Mar 28, 2002 7:21 pm
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"Sometimes, we just can't make it on our own. We all need someone to love us, to help remind us that there's good in the world, to keep us from going crazy."
Willow from Dacia's The Dreamer Awakes
by tommo » Thu Mar 28, 2002 8:36 pm
Enjoy.
Part 5a - The Sleepover
The clatter of cutlery against china filled a silence that was lasting far longer than it should have done. Normal families usually couldn’t get a word in edgewise around the dinner table, Willow knew that. Normal families shared their day’s experiences. Normal families talked to one another, feigned interest in the mundane details of life, school, work, and home.
The redhead glanced over at her mother, chewing on a piece of rather overcooked chicken. But my family’s not normal. Her gaze flickered over to the blonde sitting opposite her and she attempted a conciliatory smile. Okay, so maybe this sleepover thing isn’t working out the way it should, she thought, a frown working its way down over her brow to crinkle worriedly between her eyes. She had invited Tara over for a sleepover, but her mother had, in a moment of maternal concern, insisted that the blonde come for dinner as well. That’s got to be the first time this year that she’s actually taken an interest, Willow’s gaze lingered on her mother’s features momentarily, before returning to her plate. I guess that’ll be it now until I go to college, or maybe after that. Maybe when I get married or…she looked over to Tara again and took a smug delight in the smile that tugged at the corners of the blonde’s mouth as they locked gazes…or maybe not.
Growing up at the Rosenberg’s hadn’t been easy. Willow excelled as a student, at first because she liked school. After the initial euphoria of learning had worn off somewhat, she’d excelled to gain the approval of her parents. She soon realized that as long as she kept bringing home A’s on her report cards, her parents would pretty much leave her alone. She wasn’t sure if that was successful parenting, but it was all she was going to get, she knew that now. In fact, after meeting Buffy’s mom, Willow had spent a long while contemplating her lot, wondering what it was she was doing wrong. The last decent conversation she and her mother had ventured into centered on the inbred patriarchy of the public school system. All Willow had done was to tell her mother she was trying out for the athletics team and that the coach was an ogre. The next hour and half had been one of Sheila Rosenberg’s finest lectures on human moralities and the place of women in the field of sports.
Sighing, Willow shoved a forkful of chicken into her mouth and bit back the grimace that sprung to her lips. Her mother was really better suited to lecturing than cooking. But, of course, her eyes slid up the table to the figure of her father, nobody was going to tell Sheila Rosenberg that. Her father was hidden behind a newspaper; he had insisted on checking up on his stocks and shares at the dinner table, despite their guest. Ira Rosenberg, financial broker and forgetful father, Willow’s gaze almost burned a hateful hole through the paper for a second before she stopped herself. That wouldn’t do any good. That ice into fire spell certainly hadn’t helped her eiderdown any when she’d unwittingly hit success on the magic front.
I just need to practice more, she told herself sternly. I will get better at it. I’d have more time to do magic if a certain someone wasn’t occupying my thoughts all day every day. Again her eyes traveled across the table to where Tara was politely hacking away at her chicken. Not that that wasn’t a welcome distraction. Not at all. She’d almost told her that she loved her the other day, in a fit of emotional pique when Tara had canceled one of their study dates. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel it; she’d never felt this way about anyone before, not even Xander. It was just…something else. Something that hadn’t given her the right moment. But, she allowed her gaze to linger down Tara’s throat before pulling it away almost guiltily, if the right moment were to arise, then she’d –
A foot touched hers under the table, breaking into her train of thought. Startled, she froze, her jaw clicking slightly as she blinked across the table. The foot brushed more firmly against her own, a gentle pressure that inched its way up her ankle. Tara smiled softly, her lips curving up in an angelic smile that belied the pathway her foot was taking right now, rubbing with a hint of seduction over the top of Willow’s, then pushing up the inside of her leg. Willow blinked again and swallowed audibly, inciting a look of absent-minded reprove from her mother. Offering an apologetic grin, the redhead’s eyes returned to gaze across the table at the blonde who was chewing fixedly on her food. A long slow breath escaped Willow’s mouth as she shifted in her seat. Tara continued to smile her little secretive grin, tearing her eyes away from Willow’s and prodding at her beans as though nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Well this is just ridiculous!” Ira Rosenberg exploded suddenly, folding the paper and slamming it down next to his plate with an audible smack. Both girls jumped in their chairs and Tara’s foot was immediately snatched back to her own side of the table.
Three sets of eyes focused on Ira’s craggy aquiline face. His bright blue eyes rolled over each face in turn as he raised his graying eyebrows.
“Dad?” Willow enquired, leaning forward slightly.
“You know, my shares have lost three points. In two days!” he picked up his fork and gestured wildly over his meal. “If you’re thinking of going to university,” he shook his head in Willow’s general direction, “my shares are going to have to pick up a bit first.” He popped a potato into his mouth and munched down on it decisively.
Sheila shook her head fondly at her husband and leaned her fork down onto her plate with a tiny chink of metal against china. “How about you Tasha?” she smiled kindly at Tara. “Are you thinking of university after school?”
“It’s Tara, mom,” Willow said, flushing bright red.
“Yes,” her mother nodded, unaware of her mistake. Turning her gaze back to the blonde once more, she raised her eyebrows questioningly. “It’s so important for a young woman to regain a sense of herself after high school,” she mused, distracted by her own thoughts.
Tara laid her knife and fork down carefully on her plate and pushed nervously at a stray lock of hair, tucking it back behind her ear. “Um, I think…” she began, then stopped as she felt the gimlet gaze of Willow’s parents trace her features. “Uh, I’d like to go to university,” she added, her voice dropping into her chest as her head fell forward a little. “I don’t know if my dad can…”
“Money!” Ira Rosenberg threw up his hands in the air and nodded emphatically towards Tara. “Your father sounds like a man of sound mind. Education costs, make no mistake.” Throwing a cursory glance towards Willow, he shook his head. “Children empty a bank account faster than they grow.”
“Thanks Dad,” Willow sighed, her gaze dropping as she resignedly picked up her fork and stabbed viciously at her chicken. She missed the distinct look of sympathy that Tara directed towards her and pressed her lips into a hard line. If ever I needed a reason for her not to like me, it’s sitting at either end of this table.
Sheila reached for her glass of wine just above her plate and raised it to her lips, sipping thoughtfully for a moment. “I couldn’t possibly contemplate Willow not going to university,” she said finally. Ira shrugged in response and tilted his head onto one side in acquiescence. “She’s such a good student,” Sheila continued, “it would be such a waste of her brain not to use it. You know, there are some girls who leave school and don’t do anything with their minds. They get married, have families and then stop living.” She raised the glass to her mouth again, giving Tara time to absorb her words. “I didn’t want that for myself, and I certainly don’t want that for Willow.”
“Mom…” Willow’s face creased into a pained expression as she raised her eyes to look at her mother.
“No Willow,” Sheila lifted her hand, one finger held up as though she was imparting words of great weight, which, naturally, she was. Let it not be said that Sheila Rosenberg made idle chit chat at the dinner table. If something was worth saying, then it was worth saying well. That’s what she always encouraged her students to understand. Her daughter and her friend were no different. “You see,” she leaned towards Tara on her left almost confidentially, “you are a great source of power Tasha, and you probably don’t even know it.”
Tara blinked once, her eyes wide and not a little frightened. “M-me?” she whispered.
“Oh yes,” Sheila leaned back in her chair. “High school students are the next generation.” Shaking her head, she pursed her lips, “And women are the future bearers of the generation after that. It’s only right we treat them with respect.”
Sighing, Willow offered a weary smile across the table to Tara, apologizing with her gaze for the ritualistic torture the girl must be enduring. Nobody ever did well with parents, she knew that. Well, unless it was Buffy’s mom. Joyce Summers was what might be termed cool, especially what with the whole slaying thing and everything. It just made the embarrassment of her own parental contributions all the more vivid.
“Speaking of which,” Ira spoke up again, frowning over to where Willow was dying a very large death from ingrained shame, “what’s going on at that high school of yours?”
Looking over at Willow, Tara could barely suppress the smile that sprung to her lips. Considering the purposes for which they used high school, any answer to that question might possibly ruin any repeat dinners in the offing. If only they knew what we’ve done, she thought, somewhat wryly. And where we’ve done it.
“What do you mean?” Willow’s brow was furrowed in a way that Tara found utterly adorable.
Ira shrugged in his non-committal manner that Tara realized was his distancing effect. He was interested in his daughter to a point, but after that, he tended to defer to her mother, that was for certain. A tiny pang of sorrow pulled at her heart as she empathized with the redhead. She guessed that they both missed the presence of loving parents in one way or another. Somehow, that connection between them only made her want Willow all the more.
“You still associating with that Harris boy?” The line of her father’s mouth gave full feeling to his reprove.
“Yes Dad,” Willow sighed, half closing her eyes against the potentially lengthy conversation about the reputation of the Harris family. She’d heard it all before, how Xander wasn’t a suitable friend for her, despite the fact that their respective families went back to a time before she and Xander had even existed. Her father had explained to her how one could outgrow childhood friends; how hangers-on only sullied oneself with their dubious behavior; how Xander, although he was always terribly polite and willing to please, didn’t quite have what it took to keep up with the Rosenbergs. She’d heard all that and more, and that was even before her father got started on Xander’s parents.
“You know Willow, you have to be careful who you choose for friends,” Sheila’s voice only added to the grimace on the redhead’s face. “I’m not sure you’re always able to choose wisely,” she glanced over at Tara and smiled again, although the expression in her eyes chilled Tara somewhat.
Shifting in her chair, the blonde returned Sheila’s smile somewhat over-willingly, anxiety niggling at the back of her head. They hate me, she decided, her heart dropping to somewhere in the local vicinity of her shoes. And why wouldn’t they? If I don’t like me, how can anyone else?
“Xander’s okay,” Willow’s chin jutted out defiantly. It was one thing to see Xander’s faults herself, but quite another for someone else to point them out to her. “He’s a good friend mom.”
“Oh I’m sure he is,” Sheila scoffed, shaking her head down the table to where Ira nodded abruptly in agreement with her appraisal. “He’s just not a good student, you know that. And as for that Bunny girl…”
“It’s Buffy!” Willow said from between gritted teeth.
“Yes,” Sheila reached for her wine glass again, “her as well.” Sipping at the liquid, she swallowed and sighed disparagingly.
“None of them Jewish,” Ira countered, pushing his plate away from him, the half-uneaten meal now cold and distinctly less appetizing than it had been before, which wasn’t really crediting the meal with a great deal of allure. Rubbing at his mouth with the linen napkin, he screwed it up in one hand and dropped it over his cutlery, turning his gaze onto Tara once more. “How about you?” he asked, his voice managing to achieve a softer tone at least. As the blonde’s timid blue gaze met his own, he even gave an approximation of a smile in her general direction. “Are you Jewish?”
Tara’s mouth opened once before she smartly shut it again. Underneath the table, a foot slid up her ankle and reassuringly pressed against her skin. Across the table from her, Willow gave the girl the confidence she needed in a smile and a comforting blink of her green gaze.
“N-no sir,” Tara ventured. “I’m n-not Jewish.” Wishing she hadn’t faltered quite so much over her words, her gaze trickled down to the tabletop again, focusing on the intricate patterns of lace that wove around and underneath her plate.
Ira let out a humph of dissatisfaction, although it was delivered without surprise. Folding his arms over his chest, he jerked his chin out and looked down the table to his wife. “There’s just no community left in Sunnydale anymore,” he stated, shaking his head. “Used to be lots of Jewish families here. I don’t know what happened to them all.”
They got eaten, Willow thought wryly, gazing at her father. Just like all the other families that moved here and disappeared. And you’re too stupid to wake up and smell the vampires.
“You know, we really should invite the Tollmans over for dinner,” Sheila dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her own napkin and looked over at her husband. “They have a son who’s gone to Harvard this year,” her gaze flickered over Willow before resting on the face of her husband once more. “Although,” she countered, “Gillian Tollman really is quite a detestable woman. Always singing her own praises.” Her lips pursed into a line of disdain, “I never could abide that. Still, young Michael Tollman has prospects.” Her eyes returned to the exasperated face of her daughter with meaning.
“Okay,” Willow pushed back her chair and stood up. “Thanks for dinner mom. We’re going to study.” The shortness of her sentences barely managed to disguise her anger, fiercely ticking a muscle in her cheek. Nodding her head to Tara, she watched as the blonde followed suit, getting up from the table.
“Don’t you want dessert?” Sheila’s tone was almost surprised at her daughter’s sudden desire to depart. Blinking up at Willow, she didn’t even see the annoyance painted in broad colors over the girl’s face.
“We’ll get some ice cream later.” Willow was already halfway across the room. “Tara?” she turned in the doorway and motioned with her hand for the blonde to follow quickly.
“Th-thanks for a lovely dinner,” Tara lied, giving the Rosenbergs what she hoped was her best smile, bobbing her head deferentially to them both.
Sheila returned the smile graciously and reached for her wine glass, almost empty in front of her. “Our pleasure. Lovely to meet you Tasha!” she called as the blonde girl hurried from the room in an effort to keep up with Willow’s long strides of impatience.
Turning back to face her husband, who had already picked up the paper again and was currently shaking it out in front of his face, Sheila frowned slightly, tilting her head onto one side.
“Nice girl,” she commented absently, swirling what was left of her wine around in the glass. “Too quiet though. No passion. I can’t understand what Willow sees in her at all.”
***
Tara watched in trepidation as Willow closed the door to her bedroom rather too firmly behind them and leaned against it, letting out a long groaning sigh. Closing her eyes, Willow banged her head back against the door repeatedly, the dull little thuds the only sound between them both for what seemed like eternally long seconds.
Tara pulled on the hem of her best shirt. She’d dressed up for Willow’s parents, not realizing that they had paid so little attention to her appearance, she might well have been naked. Maybe that would have made like me more, she couldn’t help grinning slightly. The Rosenbergs hadn’t really bothered her; she’d expected other people’s parents to be like her own. Well, her dad anyway. Willow had told her beforehand that her parents weren’t normal; Tara wasn’t sure what that word meant anymore. It seemed like most things in Sunnydale weren’t exactly normal. She just assumed that that included parents as well. And she took it in her stride mostly, because that was the way things were. She had learned a long time ago that having preconceived ideas about things usually set you up for a fall. If you expected the worst, when it didn’t happen, that was a nice surprise.
Taking a tentative step towards the redhead, still lost in her own silent damnation of all things Rosenberg, Tara wiped her hands down the fuzzed fabric of her pants, feeling the loose material swing against her legs. Her careful gaze stroked over the taut features of the redhead, her heart clenching in empathy. She wanted so much to smooth away the worry and hurt that lay there. It was all she could do these days to not fall on her knees before Willow and declare her everlasting love. Drama queen, she chided herself, remembering the playful taunts of her one lasting friendship back in Modesto. But she couldn’t help it. For the last two months at least, waking, sleeping, eating and breathing had been Willow-shaped. Everything she believed in and everything she had ever wanted for herself was wrapped up neatly in the figure of the girl in front of her. It was blindingly, frighteningly clear. Tara was hopelessly in love.
Reaching out her hand, Tara’s fingertips brushed gently against Willow’s, splayed out on the door behind her. Moving in a little closer, the blonde caught a faint scent of the fragrance the redhead seemed to carry with her, like an aura. Glimpsing some of that aura, Tara’s forehead furrowed. It was purple. And that was never good. She bent forwards, leaning in to look more intently into the redhead’s face.
“Willow?”
The shades fell from the green eyes that suddenly opened and pierced her own. Willow’s forehead crinkled into a frown just once, as her mouth opened, her lips reddened by apology. Then she closed her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip with hard teeth. She shook her head just once, dropping her gaze.
“Willow,” Tara said again, her voice a mere whisper in the quiet of the room. Reaching up, she crooked her finger under the redhead’s chin and lifted the girl’s head until their eyes met once more. The look that passed between them needed no words to express the emotion it carried. It was all there, in one fatal glance. It was everything, and seemingly, nothing. The intensity of each pair of eyes was all that mattered; the feeling behind that intensity vital.
“You don’t have to – “ Tara began, but found her words cut short as Willow’s hands traced up the lines of her neck to bury themselves into her hair. Pulling her forward, Willow let out a sigh as she crushed her mouth against Tara’s. A surprised sound coming from the blonde’s throat soon wound its way into a moan of happiness as the redhead moved her mouth over the full lips that she so desperately needed to taste. Lips opened to allow tongues to crest against one another, their burgeoning desire bringing bodies smashing against one another for a brief moment.
Letting go, Willow stood back from Tara and trailed her hands down the girl’s arms to interlink their fingers. Taking in the blonde’s rather flushed expression; she couldn’t help smiling, despite her misgivings about her parents.
“Sorry,” she shrugged.
A tiny smile pulled at the corner of Tara’s mouth, giving her the lopsided expression that so endeared her to Willow.
“I’m not,” she answered softly, squeezing Willow’s fingers in her own. “I mean sure,” she rolled her eyes, “I wasn’t expecting that, but you know, it wasn’t horrid or anything.”
“Thanks,” Willow let out a laugh that lit her face momentarily before her mouth drooped again and she screwed up her features into an apology. “I’m really sorry.”
“About what?” Tara feigned confusion, feeling her heart tugged once more in the general direction of the disconsolate redhead standing before her.
“Them,” Willow jerked her head back in the direction of the dining room. “They’re not used to, you know,” she pressed her lips together for a second, “human beings.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “I’m sorry if they were mean to you; they really don’t know what they’re saying half the time. They just open their mouth and stuff comes out and sometimes it’s good but most of the time it’s all just really really bad and…”
“Ssssh,” Tara lifted her hand and put a finger over Willow’s lips in an effort to stop the stream of words pouring from in between them. Tilting her head onto one side she eyed the other girl carefully. “You know, I wasn’t expecting it to be all hearts and flowers anyway. I don’t have a good track record with parents…uh, my own, I mean,” she sighed, eliciting a look of tenderness from the other girl. “Besides, they weren’t that bad,” she added helpfully.
“No Tara, they were,” Willow sighed deeply, shaking her head. “All that horrid matchmaking they do…I mean, they do it all the time. And the whole Jewish thing,” she made a noise of disgust in her throat. “It’s like, hello? I have a life!” Her shoulders slumped down resignedly.
Tara let out a shy giggle, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about them and all that.”
Bringing her gaze up to meet Tara’s, Willow’s eyes seemed like pools of worry, swirling her thoughts visibly into being. “I was just afraid if you saw the kind of people I came from, that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me,” she admitted in a small voice.
The lopsided smile appeared once more on Tara’s mouth and she narrowed her eyes, gazing at Willow with true affection. “See,” she said firmly, “that’s where you’re a dummy. I think about…what you grew up with…” her mind roamed fleetingly over how hard Willow tried to please her parents and she felt the pain of rebuttal deep inside her own chest. “And then I look at what you are…” she trailed her fingers down the soft cheek of the redhead, her touch glistening in the green orbs gazing back at her, “it makes me proud. It makes me like you more.”
Leaning into the touch, Willow closed her eyes briefly, reveling in the contact of warm flesh on her face. “Every time I – “ she stopped, her breath catching dangerously close to tears in her throat. Pausing, she sucked in a lungful of air and opened her eyes to look back at Tara. “Even when I’m at my worst,” she said slowly, “you always make me feel special.” Tara smiled back at her, the pressure of her fingers a welcome release from the anxiety gnawing at Willow’s insides. “How do you do that?” the redhead asked wonderingly, moving gladly into the embrace that Tara offered, two arms snaking around her waist to pull her in closer.
Tara put her head on Willow’s shoulder and breathed in the calmness around the other girl, settling over both of them like a fine rain mist, dampening their fears and surrounding them in each other, just as it should be. The smile on her lips broadened and she dared to close her eyes, feeling Willow’s arms encircle her and press their bodies against one another, the contours of their limbs fitting perfectly together. A faint glow seemed to surround them, as though their feelings were taking corporeal form and nestling around them, melting into their embrace.
“Magic,” Tara whispered, her mouth close to Willow’s ear.
The floor seemed to fall away from beneath them and they were lost in each other’s arms, floating, it seemed, above everything that threatened to pull them away from one another. All that mattered was that they cared, they loved, they felt and they existed, here, with one another. And that, Tara felt, drifting through Willow’s embrace with the languorously slow movements of one who is at peace, was as it should be.
***
“So you know Homecoming is soon,” Willow commented, looking up from her book. She was lying on her front attempting to read. Attempting in spite of the attraction across the room. She and Tara, after further exploration of the joys of cuddling, had decided to get changed into their nightclothes. What with it being a weekend night, Willow had assured Tara that it was okay to stay up as late as they liked, and had confidently tapped the relative mountain of movies she’d got in especially for that purpose. They had escaped to Willow’s room on the premise of studying, and had even pulled books out to hold in the pretence, but neither girl had any intention of learning facts that didn’t include one another. It was fun to pretend though, particularly when Sheila had knocked on the door to say goodnight. Two innocent faces had peered up at her from their respective books and a smile of satisfaction had crossed her face before she closed Willow’s bedroom door and retreated to the master bedroom at the other side of the house.
It had been odd, getting changed for bed, Willow remembered. She had scrambled into her pj’s when Tara had gone to brush her teeth, shoving her clothes under the bed in an attempt at neatness. Tara, likewise, had returned from the bathroom wearing a nightshirt that reached down to her knees. She had blushed slightly at the huge furry teddy bear adorning the front and averted her eyes when Willow told her it was cute and she looked adorable.
It’s like we’re newlyweds or something, Willow thought, her gaze resting on the figure of the blonde, reclining on a throw pillow across the other side of the room. She’s nervous and so am I, and neither of us knows why! For a couple who had sex in every possible location they could, it seemed that the relative freedom and luxury of an actual bed was looming large in both their minds.
Willow closed the book in front of her with an audible thud, shoving it to one side and running her fingers through her auburn hair. Tara, looking up from her cushion, was met with a sigh that clenched her heart. There’s just something about Willow in pink cow print pajamas, she thought, a smile crossing her lips, echoed in the response of the redhead. It’s like she’s this little girl, when I know that she’s a woman underneath it all. And she’s so adorable too. I mean, what the heck am I doing here when she could have anyone she wants?
“Homecoming?” she repeated, closing the book that she’d hardly glanced at over the last hour.
“Uh huh,” Willow nodded enthusiastically, the movement bobbing her whole body up and down on the bed. Pushing herself up, she crossed her legs and leaned forward, resting her elbows onto her knees. “It’s usually a lot of fun,” she added, her voice taking on an almost pleading tone.
Tara looked down at her lap pensively, running a finger absent-mindedly over the cover of the book. Homecoming had been and gone when she lived in Modesto. In fact, senior year had pretty much been and gone too. She’d missed out on so much, and after her mother got sick… No, she told herself pointedly, no use in dwelling on that. She got sick, she died. End of story. End of life.
“I didn’t…um…I’m not really much for the dancing,” she said quietly, hardly daring to look at the forlorn expression crossing Willow’s face.
“But it’s fun!” Willow insisted. Tilting her head onto one side, she gazed at Tara’s stance; shoulders hunched over and head down. She’d seen that kind of body language once too often to guess that it was deliberate. With everyone else, that was the way Tara was. Always so shy and unassuming. Sometimes Willow thought that Tara only came alive in the precious moments they had alone with one another and while that thought secretly thrilled her, she knew it wasn’t altogether healthy. She worried. Constantly. If she didn’t have anything to worry about, then she worried that she wasn’t worrying about something.
She shook her head. Okay, if her thoughts weren’t even making sense, then how in frilly heck was she going to verbalize something that did? Shifting her position slightly, she leaned forwards, trying to figure out the expression that Tara was hiding behind her curtain of golden hair.
“Are you okay?” she asked tentatively, wondering if she’d said something wrong. Wondering? Make that knowing, she told herself. Open mouth, insert foot. It’s the Rosenberg way.
Tara looked up, shock lengthening her features. “No!” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “Of course not!” Taking a breath to steady herself, she frowned and shrugged. “It’s not you Willow. I guess I just don’t have happy memories of Homecoming, that’s all.”
“I see,” Willow nodded. She didn’t. Not at all.
Getting up from her cushion, Tara padded across the room in her bare feet and sat down on the bed beside Willow, shyly reaching out and taking the redhead’s hand in her own. Willow smiled, more for reassurance than anything else, hoping that this wasn’t leading into a whole ‘I like you but just as a friend’ conversation. If it was, she let out a tiny sigh, she wasn’t sure her heart could take it, so deeply invested as it was in Tara’s wellbeing.
“You know my mom died last year,” Tara said quietly, looking down at the freckled hand grasped in her own. She traced a curve of three pale brown dots near Willow’s knuckle and steadied her voice.
“Yeah,” Willow answered quietly, her free hand reaching up to smooth over the cotton nightshirt and press against Tara’s back, running the length of her spine. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Tara shrugged, “but thanks anyway.” She shot a smile of gratitude towards the redhead, whose eyes narrowed slightly in response. “I mean, she was really sick,” she continued slowly, her voice wavering over the information. “And she needed looking after, uh, at home, I mean. D-d-dad was working and Donny…” she sighed, “well he didn’t really take it too well, so that just left me.” Letting out another deep sigh, she shook her head against the memory, her fingers reaching up to tuck the hair falling over her face behind one ear. “I had to stay home and take care of her, which meant not going to school. I’m repeating my senior year,” she looked up at Willow, shame coloring her eyes a deeper shade of blue. “I didn’t graduate with the rest of my class, and when we moved here, it was the one thing I wanted to do more than anything.”
“And you will,” Willow said gently, her hand still moving in circles over Tara’s back, the pressure comforting and safe.
“Homecoming…” Tara began, and then stopped, her teeth reaching out to bite gently at her lower lip. A distant look flickered through her eyes and she closed them momentarily, squeezing the lids shut. “Homecoming was the week we found out my mom was sick,” she explained. “I mean, really sick. I guess I still feel bad about that.” She opened her eyes and raised them plaintively to where Willow was gazing at her, mouth slightly parted and eyes wide. “I know it’s stupid,” she felt the faint prickle of tears at the back of her eyes and irritably shook them away with a toss of her head, “but I can’t help feeling guilty.”
“What?” Willow blurted. “But you stayed home for a whole year…”
“And I never stopped partly blaming her for missing out on something so stupid!” Tara let out a laugh that was thickened by the constriction of grief in her throat, still so fresh and raw even after all the time that had passed. “It was like my whole life got put on hold and nobody even noticed. My mom was too sick when it got really bad, and m-m-my dad d-d-didn’t…” she trailed off, the stutter overtaking the unformed words in her mouth. Rubbing fiercely at her eyes, she gritted her teeth against the pain that flooded back so easily, even now. I won’t cry, she told herself, I won’t cry. I won’t. Not anymore.
“Oh Tara…” Willow put her arm around the hunched shoulders beside her and drew the other girl close, rubbing her hand up and down the soft skin of the blonde’s arm. For a moment, neither girl spoke, their closeness emanating a feeling of security from one body to the other. Tara closed her eyes and rested her head against Willow’s chest, gleaning some comfort from the way the redhead was holding her and touching her so gently. As Willow’s chin perched on top of her head, she let out a ragged sigh, berating herself inwardly for bringing this up now, of all times.
“Homecoming’s lame anyway,” Willow said decisively.
In spite of herself, Tara let out a short laugh and lifted her head so that she could peer into the other girl’s face. Willow’s mouth was set in a grim line of defiance and she nodded to emphasize her point. That only set off another trickle of giggles that ran through the blonde’s chest.
“What happened to the fun part?” Tara enquired, somewhat dubiously.
Willow frowned and shrugged. “It just got lame,” she explained simply. “And if you’re not going, then neither am I.”
“No Willow, you don’t have to…”
“I know,” the redhead cut into the protestations of the other girl, her tone acquiring a soft placation that Tara found infinitely charming. “I want to,” she added, running her thumb over the back of Tara’s hand. The smile that lit up the blonde’s face sent a warm shiver of delight into Willow’s heart, more than making up for her initial disappointment at missing Homecoming. “Stupid football players,” she said, pushing out her bottom lip. “All big heads and no brains. Bleh.”
Tara looked down at their joined hands, quite speechless. Nobody had ever done anything for her before. Not because they wanted to. And certainly not to make her happy. She was quite overwhelmed by the hugeness of Willow’s heart and how much love there was in it. There I go, using that word again; she halted her own heart, racing off at a tangent. Like Willow even understands what love is, especially not with me…
“Hey,” Willow sat back on the bed and swung her legs over the side. Standing up, she grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her up beside her. “I wanna show you something.” Tugging on the blonde’s hand, she pulled a rather bemused Tara over to the double doors down one side of her room. Pushing the net curtains covering the doors to one side, she reached down and clattered the key in the lock. The single level house meant that Willow’s bedroom opened onto the rear garden, offering an unfettered expanse of quiet and darkness.
As she opened the doors, Willow turned and smiled back at Tara, putting a finger to her lips to ensure a sneaky exit. The blonde could only manage a weak grin in reply, wondering if going outside in one’s nightclothes was a regular occurrence at the Rosenberg household.
“Uh, Willow,” Tara said quietly, feeling the warm air slide over her skin and prickle the back of her neck, “what’s going on?” She squinted into the blackness beyond the veranda that ran the perimeter of the house and shivered slightly, even though October had offered sunny days and hot nights this year.
“Over here,” a disembodied voice came from her left, somewhere down the wooden deck. Her frown deepening, the blonde reached out, feeling the wooden railing of the deck underneath her palm, the peeling paint on the wood scratching underneath her hand. Slowly brushing her feet along the deck, she allowed herself some time so that her eyes would become accustomed to the dark. Once shapes began to swim slowly into view, she turned to see Willow’s shadowy figure sitting on a bench pushed up against the wall.
Sinking onto the bench beside the redhead, Tara felt Willow reach over and grab her hand again, interlacing their fingers. A happy warmth filled Tara’s body as a faint breeze drifted over them, caressing her hair with playful tendrils.
“Look,” Willow pointed upwards.
Raising her head, Tara could see the clear violet sky above them, yawning its expanse as far as the eye could see. As she gazed up into its depths, she became aware of pinpoints of light flickering at her. Ten turned into twenty, forty, a hundred. Allowing her eyes to adjust, her mouth fell open as she realized that the sky was a blanket of stars, shining so brightly, it was as though there were thousands of tiny suns twinkling down at her.
“I used to sneak out here sometimes to look at the stars,” Willow said, her mouth suddenly very close to Tara’s ear. Her breath tickled against the blonde’s neck, sending a shiver of delicious pleasure down the girl’s spine. “But you know, vampires, demons…kinda puts a girl off stargazing.” She shifted closer along the bench so that her hip bumped against Tara’s; both girls grinning self-consciously as they looked at one another.
Turning her face up to the stars again, Tara let herself drift amidst the blinking lights over her head and sighed gently, remembering other nights like this, when she would find some sense of peace in the infinite. She leaned down against Willow and nestled against the redhead comfortably.
“I used to love to look up at the stars when I was little,” she said, almost to herself. An image of a younger, more innocent, happier Tara entered her head suddenly. She remembered the time her mother had pointed out all the constellations to her, one after the other. Before she got sick.
“They’re supposed to make you feel all insignificant, but…” she pursed her lips, “they made me feel like…like I was in space. Part of the stars.” Narrowing her eyes, she looked up into the sky above and pointed, “There’s Canis Minor…and,” she pointed to a different part of the sky, “Cassiopeia.”
Willow grinned and hugged Tara’s hand close to her thigh. Lifting her free hand she pointed it in the direction of Tara’s finger and swirled it round. “And the Big Pineapple.”
Frowning, Tara turned and looked into the shining green eyes only inches from her own. She saw the mischievous glint in the green and half smiled. “Uh…you know, I’m not sure I remember that one.”
Willow drew her lips into a firm line and nodded. “Oh it’s a major one.” A tiny giggle escaped her throat and she squeezed Tara’s hand. “See those three bright stars over there?” she pointed up above the blonde’s head.
“Yeah,” Tara followed the path that Willow’s hand was taking.
“And see those stars along there?” Willow’s finger moved down in a circular motion. “That’s the bottom of the pineapple.”
“It’s big,” Tara shrugged, glancing at the girl beside her.
“Hence the name,” Willow smiled into her eyes. The sadness that had crept into Tara’s voice and eyes abated somewhat, encouraging the redhead even further. She pulled the blonde back against her, the girl’s head resting on her shoulder comfortably and sweetly. “I learned the real names but they never seemed, you know, imaginative enough to me. I sort of have my own,” she admitted with a snigger.
“Mmm,” Tara said appreciatively, “teach me.” Her voice resonated in a low tone that shivered down Willow’s spine.
The smile on the redhead’s face broadened. Holding up her hand again, she pointed at a cluster of tiny stars to their left. “See those stars over there? Short man looking uncomfortable.”
The giggle that left Tara’s mouth sounded like music to Willow’s ears; she couldn’t help joining in.
“Uh,” the redhead bit her lip thoughtfully and gestured towards another small cluster of spots in the sky, this time to their right. “Moose getting a sponge bath,” she ventured, and then looked up to find another line of stars above them. “Um…little pile o’ crackers?” Glancing at Tara, she saw the frown creasing its way down the blonde’s face and shrugged, “That was a bit of a stretch.” They both burst into laughter, leaning into one another. “You do it,” Willow nudged against Tara’s shoulder. “What would you call…mm, that one?” she pointed up to their far right.
Following Willow’s arm, Tara gazed for a few silent moments at the starry sky above them, and the quiet night that pounded in her eardrums. Dragging her gaze back down the redhead’s arm, she turned and looked at the features she had come to know so well. The warm glow suffusing her body eliminated all thoughts of sorrow that she had experienced earlier. She loved Willow for making her laugh; she loved Willow for sitting outside in the dark with her; she loved Willow for holding her hand. For all this and more. She loved her with everything she had inside her.
“Well?” Willow turned and saw the way Tara was looking at her, with such undisguised emotion that it leapt through her veins and blinked its way into her vision, thickening in her throat; she found that she could barely speak. Her mouth opened and she let her eyes trickle over the other girl’s face, allowing her heart to finally accept the love she wanted so desperately.
Tara lifted her hand and laid her palm against Willow’s cheek, spreading out her fingers over the softness there. A smile played over her lips, giving heat to her gaze and she paused momentarily.
“I’d call them…” she mused thoughtfully, “I’d call them cute redhead who makes me feel wanted.”
Willow gulped. Her mouth dried up and she heard the words in her head, but there was no way they were going to come out of her mouth. Not while Tara was looking at her that way and holding her like that. In spite of the warm night, she shivered.
“You okay?” Tara leaned in closer, her hand trailing down to curl around Willow’s neck, her fingertips playing with the strands of red lightly falling over her skin.
Willow nodded wordlessly. The stars forgotten, all she could see was the light shining in Tara’s eyes as the blonde moved closer. The second their lips touched, all the lights went out and faded to a glorious consuming black.
***
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You know I've been through hell...Joss can't you see, there'll be nothing left of me. You made me believe...
by Kieli » Thu Mar 28, 2002 8:51 pm
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"Sometimes, we just can't make it on our own. We all need someone to love us, to help remind us that there's good in the world, to keep us from going crazy."
Willow from Dacia's The Dreamer Awakes
by Bobo's Mom » Thu Mar 28, 2002 9:30 pm
Thank you for taking your time.
It's was worth it.
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TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
by Karzia » Thu Mar 28, 2002 9:36 pm
Oh baaaddd Tara playing footsie at the dinner table shameful I always knew she was the saucy one.
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"As God as my witness I thought Turkeys could fly." L.Nesman, WKRP
[This message has been edited by Karzia (edited March 28, 2002).]
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The dinner scene was pure torture. I could really feel the uncomfortableness of it all.
The stargazing was so sweet.
I really like how you're having them go so slowly with verbally expressing their feelings. Makes for good mini-angst and private thoughts.
I love this fic. Thanks so much.
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posted March 28, 2002 23:39 Loved the update. Very sweet and liked the use of the reverse dialogue from the show..very imaginative. Waiting on the next part now. IP: LoggedBytrSuiteDoll's Eye Crystal The dinner scene was pure torture. I could really feel the uncomfortableness of it all.
The stargazing was so sweet.
I really like how you're having them go so slowly with verbally expressing their feelings. Makes for good mini-angst and private thoughts.
I love this fic. Thanks so much.
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posted March 28, 2002 23:42 Wow, Ruth, you're so, so good.The dinner scene was pure torture. I could really feel the uncomfortableness of it all.
The stargazing was so sweet.
I really like how you're having them go so slowly with verbally expressing their feelings. Makes for good mini-angst and private thoughts.
I love this fic. Thanks so much.
IP: LoggedWardukeStrong like an Amazon IP: Logged
posted March 28, 2002 23:46 Ruth...sigh...so sweet, so loving, sooo romantic, I loved it, but then again I'm such a big sap for this kind of stuffby wolflord » Thu Mar 28, 2002 9:39 pm
by BytrSuite » Thu Mar 28, 2002 9:42 pm
The dinner scene was pure torture. I could really feel the uncomfortableness of it all.
The stargazing was so sweet.
I really like how you're having them go so slowly with verbally expressing their feelings. Makes for good mini-angst and private thoughts.
I love this fic. Thanks so much.
by Warduke » Thu Mar 28, 2002 9:46 pm
by The Rose » Thu Mar 28, 2002 9:56 pm
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Tara: My heart doesn't stutter.
Tara: Willow, I got so lost.
Willow: I found you. I will always find you.
Tara: Nobody messes with my girl!
Willow: Hi, um Tara. How are you? I was wondering maybe you want to go out sometime for coffee? food? kisses and gay love?
by JennY » Thu Mar 28, 2002 10:06 pm
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"I think Spike was right back at the gas station. Snap out of it!" -Willow, to a catatonic Buffy
"I'm a blood sucking fiend. Look at my outfit!" -Willow
by jomarch » Thu Mar 28, 2002 10:10 pm
Smut, sweet sleepovers, basic grocery shopping, I would read anything you wrote.
by tommo » Thu Mar 28, 2002 10:11 pm
quote:
Originally posted by The Rose:
That's more like it. Romance. I am glad you focused on the spiritual relationship instead of the physical. I am ready for the "I love you's" now.
You'll notice this is part one of two parts, possibly more. Do you honestly think I'd write a chapter without some seriously heavy duty smut in it?
I just wanted to remind people that Willow and Tara are falling in love. It's not all about the sex, but hell, that's a great big honkin' part of it.
And as for the "I love you"'s...well I wouldn't get too hopeful. It's a big emotion for such a little word and let's face it, neither Willow or Tara have been that successful so far in expressing themselves verbally...muahahaha...
Edited to add: Rofl jomarch...basic grocery shopping...that's part 6 set up then, heh heh.
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You know I've been through hell...Joss can't you see, there'll be nothing left of me. You made me believe...
[This message has been edited by tommo (edited March 29, 2002).]
quote:by willow420 » Thu Mar 28, 2002 10:12 pm
Simply wonderful. I love the change-ups in dialoge. But you know me I can't wait for part 2.
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A.K.A. Liz
Kisses and gay love anyone?
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When it comes to love, I just don't see straight.
by JBC » Thu Mar 28, 2002 10:21 pm
by AutumnT » Fri Mar 29, 2002 12:08 am
Ruth, thanks for a lovely installment. I really like the way you've taken dialogue from the show and turned it around. It makes the bond shine to hear those words played in a different way.
Write what you want. Write the way you want. I will always be reading.
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Autumn
I have the sudden urge to dedicate my productive cooperation.
by Rally » Fri Mar 29, 2002 12:50 am
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"We need to get in there and show people the difference between loving someone who is good to be around and loving someone who is good."
[This message has been edited by Rally (edited March 29, 2002).]
by Cicca » Fri Mar 29, 2002 1:01 am
by The Rose » Fri Mar 29, 2002 1:18 am
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Tara: My heart doesn't stutter.
Tara: Willow, I got so lost.
Willow: I found you. I will always find you.
Tara: Nobody messes with my girl!
Willow: Hi, um Tara. How are you? I was wondering maybe you want to go out sometime for coffee? food? kisses and gay love?
by Ange » Fri Mar 29, 2002 1:59 am
Ange.
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"Things are not always what they seem to be...." Shakespare.
"Once you're fallen for me, you stay fallen..."
by wiltar » Fri Mar 29, 2002 4:05 am
Patricia
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"What are they looking at?"
"The hotness of you, doofus!"
[This message has been edited by wiltar (edited March 29, 2002).]
by Dumbsaint » Fri Mar 29, 2002 9:29 am
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Shiver me timberless.
by katydid » Fri Mar 29, 2002 9:48 am
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"She practically has 'genuine molded plastic' stamped on her ass.
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