Buffyfic!!
Okay, so one of these I wrote like 2 months ago and never posted, and the other I wrote yesterday. As a protest to the apparent lack of grammatically functional Wil/Tara, because I haven't managed to find the gargantuan quantities I expected.
Untitled
Willow/Tara
PG-fluff.
“You know, sweetie, I kinda love it when you’re sick.” Willow dumps her bag next to their disheveled bed, crouched next to Tara’s head to stroke her ear, soothing.
“Thanks for the candor, Wil.” Tara sniffs, grabbing for the box of Kleenex.
Willow laughs. “No, no no no, that’s not what I meant, I mean, you get sick and you put on the huge sweater thing and curl up under all those blankets and start looking all marshmallow-y. Plus, the tip of your nose gets all red, and if it’s possible, you’re even cuter than usual.”
“Well, if you think I’m cute now, then I suppose I’ve got high hopes, huh?” Willow nods and crawls in next to Tara, curling beside her and taking her hand. “Baby, I’m going to give you my cold,” Tara mutters, rolling to face her.
“I really don’t care. What are the repercussions? I get to spend all day in bed with you. Not, you know, having sex or anything, because viscous fluids and that’s just gross, but we could play with Miss Kitty. And watch soap operas. Every couple has to watch soap operas. I would invite Spike to join us, but that might turn into an awkward party.”
Tara laughs, then coughs, tilting her head away from Willow’s for a painful second. “Did I mention that I love your voice, all the time?”
“Perhaps once or twice,” Willow grins. She twists Tara’s hair between her fingers, gently. “Your hair’s gotten darker since we first met. I don’t think I realized it till now.”
“I’m thinking I should dye it blonder-er. Maybe platinum. What do you think?”
“I’m thinking you’d be gorgeous no matter what you do. But I like it like this, ‘cause it’s natural, and you look so beautiful your face practically glows.”
Tara ducks her head deeper into her turtleneck, hiding a grin. “No changes, then. I guess I like it this way, too.” She turns to see Willow yawn. “Sleepytime for us?”
“Maybe in a bit. I wanna stay awake a little longer. It seems like we never get any alone time anymore, and since Dawn’s still off at school, we should savor the moment.”
“I most certainly agree with you there.” They meld together, silent, fingers and legs entwined in a comfortable embrace. This is precious, worth more than the world, for them to be together, feeling all at once. Miss Kitty Fantastico leaps on the bed, at first desperate for a cuddle, but then distracted by a downy feather that’s worked its way out of the bedspread. She pounces after it for a bit, and Willow and Tara watch her, grinning, as she grows tired and settles herself at their feet.
“Aww, look,” Willow giggles. “She’s making muffins!”
“She is quite the divine kitty, no? Aren’t you, scamp?” The cat crawls to join then, snuggling in the small space between warm bodies. They doze that way, content, until Willow stirs in her sleep, knocking them askew. Tara moves to be closer, wrapping her arm around Willow’s waist.
“Baby.” Willow whispers devilishly, stroking Tara’s thumb. “Wanna watch Oprah?” Tara smiles like silver, and kisses her cheek.
This one was written as a scenario to match the storyline of Buffy wishing Tara back. The one that they didn't film because Amber Benson wasn't available, what the hell, Amber. So.
Finding
Willow/Tara
Again with the PG-fluff.
Willow is tracing with her fingertips every line, every crevice, the hollow formed in-between Tara's nose and unforgivably beautiful eyes. She kisses her once, twice, again, and she can feel her, swimming, swimming, alive.
This can't be happening. This isn't the truth. She screams it in her mind; it is a dream, like the ones that have haunted her, only this one must be pure evil because it's not ending in blood.
But Buffy stands there, crying, unabashed, her nose red, mascara streaming. And somewhere, sometime, Willow stops screaming, because if Buffy is this real, this happy, how could it possibly be a dream?
And she can feel Tara, feel her, solid, and satisfying, and warm, not fuzzy and untouchable like the non-corporeal evil she was dreading to find here. So there's no problem, and Willow kisses her again, shakily sighing at the hot air finding its way past Tara's soft lips. She puts her cheek to it, letting Tara breathe on her, actually breathe, gentle and sweet and just like before. She feels moisture running in rivulets down her nose, and she realizes that they are all crying, Buffy, and Willow, and Tara, too, crying because it's so perfect it hurts.
"You used your wish… how?" Willow can barely whisper without sobbing.
"How could I ask for anything else?" Buffy's eyes are clear, and true. "You need her."
Time for a fifth kiss, only this time it's Tara drawing Willow's face closer, capturing Willow's mouth hungrily. They devour, relish, and Buffy looks on, and knows it was right.
"Tara." Willow sighs. "Tara. I found you again. And it's really you."
"Baby, it's really me." Willow laughs through her tears, because to hear the voice is too beautiful, and she realizes that never for a second did she forget what it sounded like. Never. "I'm not leaving again, I promise."
"No, no, never," Willow murmurs in her ear, and feels the truth of each syllable. They will be together, till the end of days. They will love again, and know again, and it will prevail.
Enjoy, enjoy!!
Tomorrow, Mel and I have a Plan. It is a good Plan. It involves watching the first and last episodes of Buffy, starting at the same time. So, we shall see Willow leave the embrace of the softer side of Sears and turn into a sexy lesbian in exactly one hour. I will call her at 6, and we shall impart our Plan of Good Plans. Word. Except then I will be depressed, because it'll be over till March.
Untitled
Willow/Tara
PG-fluff.
“You know, sweetie, I kinda love it when you’re sick.” Willow dumps her bag next to their disheveled bed, crouched next to Tara’s head to stroke her ear, soothing.
“Thanks for the candor, Wil.” Tara sniffs, grabbing for the box of Kleenex.
Willow laughs. “No, no no no, that’s not what I meant, I mean, you get sick and you put on the huge sweater thing and curl up under all those blankets and start looking all marshmallow-y. Plus, the tip of your nose gets all red, and if it’s possible, you’re even cuter than usual.”
“Well, if you think I’m cute now, then I suppose I’ve got high hopes, huh?” Willow nods and crawls in next to Tara, curling beside her and taking her hand. “Baby, I’m going to give you my cold,” Tara mutters, rolling to face her.
“I really don’t care. What are the repercussions? I get to spend all day in bed with you. Not, you know, having sex or anything, because viscous fluids and that’s just gross, but we could play with Miss Kitty. And watch soap operas. Every couple has to watch soap operas. I would invite Spike to join us, but that might turn into an awkward party.”
Tara laughs, then coughs, tilting her head away from Willow’s for a painful second. “Did I mention that I love your voice, all the time?”
“Perhaps once or twice,” Willow grins. She twists Tara’s hair between her fingers, gently. “Your hair’s gotten darker since we first met. I don’t think I realized it till now.”
“I’m thinking I should dye it blonder-er. Maybe platinum. What do you think?”
“I’m thinking you’d be gorgeous no matter what you do. But I like it like this, ‘cause it’s natural, and you look so beautiful your face practically glows.”
Tara ducks her head deeper into her turtleneck, hiding a grin. “No changes, then. I guess I like it this way, too.” She turns to see Willow yawn. “Sleepytime for us?”
“Maybe in a bit. I wanna stay awake a little longer. It seems like we never get any alone time anymore, and since Dawn’s still off at school, we should savor the moment.”
“I most certainly agree with you there.” They meld together, silent, fingers and legs entwined in a comfortable embrace. This is precious, worth more than the world, for them to be together, feeling all at once. Miss Kitty Fantastico leaps on the bed, at first desperate for a cuddle, but then distracted by a downy feather that’s worked its way out of the bedspread. She pounces after it for a bit, and Willow and Tara watch her, grinning, as she grows tired and settles herself at their feet.
“Aww, look,” Willow giggles. “She’s making muffins!”
“She is quite the divine kitty, no? Aren’t you, scamp?” The cat crawls to join then, snuggling in the small space between warm bodies. They doze that way, content, until Willow stirs in her sleep, knocking them askew. Tara moves to be closer, wrapping her arm around Willow’s waist.
“Baby.” Willow whispers devilishly, stroking Tara’s thumb. “Wanna watch Oprah?” Tara smiles like silver, and kisses her cheek.
This one was written as a scenario to match the storyline of Buffy wishing Tara back. The one that they didn't film because Amber Benson wasn't available, what the hell, Amber. So.
Finding
Willow/Tara
Again with the PG-fluff.
Willow is tracing with her fingertips every line, every crevice, the hollow formed in-between Tara's nose and unforgivably beautiful eyes. She kisses her once, twice, again, and she can feel her, swimming, swimming, alive.
This can't be happening. This isn't the truth. She screams it in her mind; it is a dream, like the ones that have haunted her, only this one must be pure evil because it's not ending in blood.
But Buffy stands there, crying, unabashed, her nose red, mascara streaming. And somewhere, sometime, Willow stops screaming, because if Buffy is this real, this happy, how could it possibly be a dream?
And she can feel Tara, feel her, solid, and satisfying, and warm, not fuzzy and untouchable like the non-corporeal evil she was dreading to find here. So there's no problem, and Willow kisses her again, shakily sighing at the hot air finding its way past Tara's soft lips. She puts her cheek to it, letting Tara breathe on her, actually breathe, gentle and sweet and just like before. She feels moisture running in rivulets down her nose, and she realizes that they are all crying, Buffy, and Willow, and Tara, too, crying because it's so perfect it hurts.
"You used your wish… how?" Willow can barely whisper without sobbing.
"How could I ask for anything else?" Buffy's eyes are clear, and true. "You need her."
Time for a fifth kiss, only this time it's Tara drawing Willow's face closer, capturing Willow's mouth hungrily. They devour, relish, and Buffy looks on, and knows it was right.
"Tara." Willow sighs. "Tara. I found you again. And it's really you."
"Baby, it's really me." Willow laughs through her tears, because to hear the voice is too beautiful, and she realizes that never for a second did she forget what it sounded like. Never. "I'm not leaving again, I promise."
"No, no, never," Willow murmurs in her ear, and feels the truth of each syllable. They will be together, till the end of days. They will love again, and know again, and it will prevail.
Enjoy, enjoy!!
Tomorrow, Mel and I have a Plan. It is a good Plan. It involves watching the first and last episodes of Buffy, starting at the same time. So, we shall see Willow leave the embrace of the softer side of Sears and turn into a sexy lesbian in exactly one hour. I will call her at 6, and we shall impart our Plan of Good Plans. Word. Except then I will be depressed, because it'll be over till March.