Completely Gratuitous Shower Scene, Featuring Willow
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Willow/HANDS!
Setting: S1, slightly AU
Rating: Femmeslash in a school shower. What do you think?
The Sunnydale High girls' showers were a lot like an African watering hole. Lots of different wildlife around, with the predators hanging around the edge to pick off the weak ones. You always had to keep an eye out in case Cheerleaderus Bitchus made a quick dash for the cute little fawn. Or the sophomore class' designated geek girl. Willow Rosenberg skulked under a faucet close to the entrance. After last year, she had learned to leave an avenue of escape in case Cordelia decided Willow was the whipping girl of the hour. Willow used to dash home after gym class for a shower or stay stinky, rather than face the collective snark of the Cordettes. Then Mom had found out, decided her daughter was suffering from poor body image, and insisted that she shower with the other girls to rid herself of patriarchally induced shame. Facing Sheila Rosenberg quoting Germaine Greer at the dinner table to bolster her daughter's spirits edged out--only slightly--dealing with Cordy's comments on naked Willow. The pride was busy gossiping among themselves further into the showers. Through clouds of steam came the harsh judgement of Cordy on Harmony's inability to understand right foot from left. Whew. Cute fawn spared from the cheetah one more day. She always held Xander's hand during those parts of the documentaries. Go fawn! Run! Fly!
Pumping liquid soap from a wall dispenser, Willow washed as quickly as she could. At home she liked to take her time. Because you had to get all the little spots, especially ones like behind the ear. Sometimes she wasn't sure she had gotten those, so she washed a second time just to be sure. Not that that was compulsive. No, sir. Willow just liked being neat. Around her the other girls from gym class chattered while they washed up. Willow kept her eyes pointed at the wall. If she stared, then a girl on her rung of the school social ladder could a get a certain reputation. One a certain evil queen would just love to pin on her. Which would be totally untrue, because, hey, Xander love. And anyway, like mom said, if you were really comfortable with your body then looking at other girls was completely natural. Even the Cordettes did it, comparing themselves against each other for sleekest coat and shiniest fangs. All perfect hair and big breasts and toned bodies and she was not doing the comparing thing. Willow was completely of the good with her own features. Or lack of.
Hands glided down her back.
Willow whipped around, cheeks flushed, mouth open to holler at Cordy to stop kidding around.
No-one. No one at all.
Huh.
Willow worked soap into her red hair. Buffy would probably have conniptions about that. Lecturing her on the huge importance of vitalizing shampoo and deep conditioner. Only Willow couldn't stand not washing her hair during each shower. She'd be clean everywhere else except on top and she'd know. Then she'd fidget throughout the day until she had to excuse herself during a break between classes and dunk her hair for a furious scrub. Which, when she thought about it, probably was compulsive. Or obsessive. She should check her mom's copy of the DSM-IV. Nothing like finding the details of yet another willowy neurosis. She was just one big ol' yarn ball of them, wasn't she? Batted around by cats. Big, mean, dark haired cats that--
That--
Hands. Invisible hands, Willow corrected herself, looking down. Hands that had reached around and were-- Willow stiffened. Moving up to the peaks. Which were probably more like mounds compared to Cordy's but HANDS! She once would have thought she was having the psychotic break from stress that she knew was coming some day. That was before a certain blond had introduced her to the existence of vampires and demons and witches. And ghosts. Like Casper, only more with the evil and the fierce vengence from beyond the grave and plate stacking. Only this was more like Casper because things were getting very very friendly and there were fingers on those hands playing with her nipples like Willow did some nights quiet under the covers while imagining that Xander had saved her from this huge honking demon and he was leaning close and big strong hand beneath her sweater like that one accidental time when she was thirteen and GHOST!
Or vampire.
Demon?
Maybe a ghost demon vampire robot, which was probably silly or--
Oy gevalt it was Xander, it had to be, he had finally found that spell in Giles' collection that she wasn't supposed to know he was looking for, and he had achieved his ultimate dream, and he had snuck in here with all the naked girls. Only it couldn't be. Because in no reality would he go for her when there were cheerleaders a few yards away...
A pertinent fact registered in her brain. The hands were slim. Delicate.
Girl hands.
Willow's mind went CTRL-ALT-EEEP.
Girl breasts pressing against her back.
Slim girl fingers drifting down and--
This was--
Fingertips sliding between tight curls the colour of a banked camfire. Touching. Stroking.
This was--
Willow furrowed her brow.
Bad?
Yes. Bad. Because she was being molested by an invisible ghost vampire robot demon lesbian. Badness by definition.
Yes?
"Hah!" Willow arched as fingers slid into her.
"Shhh." The voice in her ear was mocking. Amused. "Don't want the bitcas in the corner to notice."
"Please." Willow tried to squeak out don't. Really.
"I've seen you notice." Long, wet girl hair--there was a girl hugging her close and doing things with her HANDS--fell against Willow's cheek. "Even when you don't notice, you notice. It's cute."
"I--I don't, I'm not a lesbo," Willow said in a whisper, "not that there's anything wrong with that, 'cause, heh, yay gay, I'm all for the positive, just--um--"
"You've got an even bigger walk-in closet than Queen C's over there." Thankfully, the GIRL HANDS slid out. Only keeping up with the stroking and touching and this was bad. Yes?
"I don't!" Willow bowed her head, pretending to scrub herself, when her outburst briefly attracted the attention of a Cordette.
"Whatever you say." The giggle in her ear was a shade too hysterical to be reassuring. "I've been coming down here. Watching. I hated not being noticed, but now? It has its advantages. Moving among you, being able to look. Able to touch, if I want. Nobody can do anything. Not even if I went Freddy Krueger with the scalpel I swiped from biology hidden out in the locker room."
"Please." Willow screwed her eyes shut. "Don't kill me."
"Won't." A kiss to her cheek. A lick that followed making Willow jump. "Just a little friendly time between us girls."
"Why me?" Willow sniffled, enduring yes enduring very much not enjoying no sir not as all oy a thumb right...there... "I--I'm nobody, that's it, that's why you're doing this to me, because nobody would care if--"
"You're thinking I'd want Cordelia." The giggle became murderous. Fast as a vamp switching from human to game face. "Only place I'd want her tongue is nailed to the wall. Now there's a thought--"
"Very bad thought!" Willow gritted her teeth. Rising on her toes, as a thumb rolled a tiny bump oh so good so wrong. "Please, stop, please, you're--"
"Brain says no, body says yes," her unseen tormentor snickered. "You like this a lot."
"No I don't, it's wrong," and now tears were streaming down her cheeks, no one could tell with the shower pouring down, "I'm not gay, I'm not, and Cordy will see and it'll all be over the school and it's supposed to be Xander, Xander, not--"
The hands left her body.
Willow heard a sharp, angry "shit" before invisbile feet splashed through the puddles on the tile floor. She saw for one moment a female figure outlined in steam condensing around its form. Then, gone. Poof. Willow rested her head against the wall. Breathe. In. Out. Wash up, go to Giles. Willow suddenly envisioned the Watcher slash librarian's expression if she told him about evil lesbian ghost demons. In the shower. Oy gevalt, he'd have a fluster attack that would probably break ten pairs of glasses. Which wouldn't be good, since she knew he only had a couple spares in his desk drawer. That she hadn't snooped in. More than once. Focus. Evil demon ghost lesbian with HANDS had not returned with sharp objects to kill everyone in the shower. For the Hellmouth, that put everyone ahead of the game. She should just finish herself off. Up. Finish up. Knees wobbly, Willow finished cleaning everywhere twice (especially the soles of her feet, couldn't forget there) before darting out of the shower. Worried green eyes scanned the ranks of lockers while she toweled herself off. Definitely not lingering anywhere in particular. Um. One with clothes and was she ever glad her softer side of Sears had chosen the big baggy overalls and cheery pink top.
This, Willow decided, would be an experience she would keep buried away like the one time she had cooked bacon at home and burnt it and it tasted so good anyway and she had put the frying pan she had done it in four feet beneath the sandbox so Ira wouldn't know though dad might have smelled it even with all the air freshener that she had sprayed around the kitchen--
The bell for class rang.
Willow froze in the middle of the hallway.
Ten minutes later, Willow shuddered to a stop with her overalls and panties down around her knees. Her fingers were somewhere a ways north.
Late for class. Actual lateness.
Also, she might be kinda gay.
Groan.
Pairing: Willow/HANDS!
Setting: S1, slightly AU
Rating: Femmeslash in a school shower. What do you think?
The Sunnydale High girls' showers were a lot like an African watering hole. Lots of different wildlife around, with the predators hanging around the edge to pick off the weak ones. You always had to keep an eye out in case Cheerleaderus Bitchus made a quick dash for the cute little fawn. Or the sophomore class' designated geek girl. Willow Rosenberg skulked under a faucet close to the entrance. After last year, she had learned to leave an avenue of escape in case Cordelia decided Willow was the whipping girl of the hour. Willow used to dash home after gym class for a shower or stay stinky, rather than face the collective snark of the Cordettes. Then Mom had found out, decided her daughter was suffering from poor body image, and insisted that she shower with the other girls to rid herself of patriarchally induced shame. Facing Sheila Rosenberg quoting Germaine Greer at the dinner table to bolster her daughter's spirits edged out--only slightly--dealing with Cordy's comments on naked Willow. The pride was busy gossiping among themselves further into the showers. Through clouds of steam came the harsh judgement of Cordy on Harmony's inability to understand right foot from left. Whew. Cute fawn spared from the cheetah one more day. She always held Xander's hand during those parts of the documentaries. Go fawn! Run! Fly!
Pumping liquid soap from a wall dispenser, Willow washed as quickly as she could. At home she liked to take her time. Because you had to get all the little spots, especially ones like behind the ear. Sometimes she wasn't sure she had gotten those, so she washed a second time just to be sure. Not that that was compulsive. No, sir. Willow just liked being neat. Around her the other girls from gym class chattered while they washed up. Willow kept her eyes pointed at the wall. If she stared, then a girl on her rung of the school social ladder could a get a certain reputation. One a certain evil queen would just love to pin on her. Which would be totally untrue, because, hey, Xander love. And anyway, like mom said, if you were really comfortable with your body then looking at other girls was completely natural. Even the Cordettes did it, comparing themselves against each other for sleekest coat and shiniest fangs. All perfect hair and big breasts and toned bodies and she was not doing the comparing thing. Willow was completely of the good with her own features. Or lack of.
Hands glided down her back.
Willow whipped around, cheeks flushed, mouth open to holler at Cordy to stop kidding around.
No-one. No one at all.
Huh.
Willow worked soap into her red hair. Buffy would probably have conniptions about that. Lecturing her on the huge importance of vitalizing shampoo and deep conditioner. Only Willow couldn't stand not washing her hair during each shower. She'd be clean everywhere else except on top and she'd know. Then she'd fidget throughout the day until she had to excuse herself during a break between classes and dunk her hair for a furious scrub. Which, when she thought about it, probably was compulsive. Or obsessive. She should check her mom's copy of the DSM-IV. Nothing like finding the details of yet another willowy neurosis. She was just one big ol' yarn ball of them, wasn't she? Batted around by cats. Big, mean, dark haired cats that--
That--
Hands. Invisible hands, Willow corrected herself, looking down. Hands that had reached around and were-- Willow stiffened. Moving up to the peaks. Which were probably more like mounds compared to Cordy's but HANDS! She once would have thought she was having the psychotic break from stress that she knew was coming some day. That was before a certain blond had introduced her to the existence of vampires and demons and witches. And ghosts. Like Casper, only more with the evil and the fierce vengence from beyond the grave and plate stacking. Only this was more like Casper because things were getting very very friendly and there were fingers on those hands playing with her nipples like Willow did some nights quiet under the covers while imagining that Xander had saved her from this huge honking demon and he was leaning close and big strong hand beneath her sweater like that one accidental time when she was thirteen and GHOST!
Or vampire.
Demon?
Maybe a ghost demon vampire robot, which was probably silly or--
Oy gevalt it was Xander, it had to be, he had finally found that spell in Giles' collection that she wasn't supposed to know he was looking for, and he had achieved his ultimate dream, and he had snuck in here with all the naked girls. Only it couldn't be. Because in no reality would he go for her when there were cheerleaders a few yards away...
A pertinent fact registered in her brain. The hands were slim. Delicate.
Girl hands.
Willow's mind went CTRL-ALT-EEEP.
Girl breasts pressing against her back.
Slim girl fingers drifting down and--
This was--
Fingertips sliding between tight curls the colour of a banked camfire. Touching. Stroking.
This was--
Willow furrowed her brow.
Bad?
Yes. Bad. Because she was being molested by an invisible ghost vampire robot demon lesbian. Badness by definition.
Yes?
"Hah!" Willow arched as fingers slid into her.
"Shhh." The voice in her ear was mocking. Amused. "Don't want the bitcas in the corner to notice."
"Please." Willow tried to squeak out don't. Really.
"I've seen you notice." Long, wet girl hair--there was a girl hugging her close and doing things with her HANDS--fell against Willow's cheek. "Even when you don't notice, you notice. It's cute."
"I--I don't, I'm not a lesbo," Willow said in a whisper, "not that there's anything wrong with that, 'cause, heh, yay gay, I'm all for the positive, just--um--"
"You've got an even bigger walk-in closet than Queen C's over there." Thankfully, the GIRL HANDS slid out. Only keeping up with the stroking and touching and this was bad. Yes?
"I don't!" Willow bowed her head, pretending to scrub herself, when her outburst briefly attracted the attention of a Cordette.
"Whatever you say." The giggle in her ear was a shade too hysterical to be reassuring. "I've been coming down here. Watching. I hated not being noticed, but now? It has its advantages. Moving among you, being able to look. Able to touch, if I want. Nobody can do anything. Not even if I went Freddy Krueger with the scalpel I swiped from biology hidden out in the locker room."
"Please." Willow screwed her eyes shut. "Don't kill me."
"Won't." A kiss to her cheek. A lick that followed making Willow jump. "Just a little friendly time between us girls."
"Why me?" Willow sniffled, enduring yes enduring very much not enjoying no sir not as all oy a thumb right...there... "I--I'm nobody, that's it, that's why you're doing this to me, because nobody would care if--"
"You're thinking I'd want Cordelia." The giggle became murderous. Fast as a vamp switching from human to game face. "Only place I'd want her tongue is nailed to the wall. Now there's a thought--"
"Very bad thought!" Willow gritted her teeth. Rising on her toes, as a thumb rolled a tiny bump oh so good so wrong. "Please, stop, please, you're--"
"Brain says no, body says yes," her unseen tormentor snickered. "You like this a lot."
"No I don't, it's wrong," and now tears were streaming down her cheeks, no one could tell with the shower pouring down, "I'm not gay, I'm not, and Cordy will see and it'll all be over the school and it's supposed to be Xander, Xander, not--"
The hands left her body.
Willow heard a sharp, angry "shit" before invisbile feet splashed through the puddles on the tile floor. She saw for one moment a female figure outlined in steam condensing around its form. Then, gone. Poof. Willow rested her head against the wall. Breathe. In. Out. Wash up, go to Giles. Willow suddenly envisioned the Watcher slash librarian's expression if she told him about evil lesbian ghost demons. In the shower. Oy gevalt, he'd have a fluster attack that would probably break ten pairs of glasses. Which wouldn't be good, since she knew he only had a couple spares in his desk drawer. That she hadn't snooped in. More than once. Focus. Evil demon ghost lesbian with HANDS had not returned with sharp objects to kill everyone in the shower. For the Hellmouth, that put everyone ahead of the game. She should just finish herself off. Up. Finish up. Knees wobbly, Willow finished cleaning everywhere twice (especially the soles of her feet, couldn't forget there) before darting out of the shower. Worried green eyes scanned the ranks of lockers while she toweled herself off. Definitely not lingering anywhere in particular. Um. One with clothes and was she ever glad her softer side of Sears had chosen the big baggy overalls and cheery pink top.
This, Willow decided, would be an experience she would keep buried away like the one time she had cooked bacon at home and burnt it and it tasted so good anyway and she had put the frying pan she had done it in four feet beneath the sandbox so Ira wouldn't know though dad might have smelled it even with all the air freshener that she had sprayed around the kitchen--
The bell for class rang.
Willow froze in the middle of the hallway.
Ten minutes later, Willow shuddered to a stop with her overalls and panties down around her knees. Her fingers were somewhere a ways north.
Late for class. Actual lateness.
Also, she might be kinda gay.
Groan.