TITLE: Donegal Street
AUTHOR: Wayland
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Willow, Tara and any other characters from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer franchise belong to Joss Whedon, FOX and ME.
SPOILERS: Up to and including Season Six.
SUMMARY: Tara left Willow after Tabula Rasa. It is now about a year later.
FEEDBACK: I would be grateful for your comments.
NOTES: Thanks to my beta, Vivienne, for the encouragement I needed to get this far and to Julia for reading and offering suggestions. Thanks to BeMyDeputy for invaluable input.
Thanks to:-
BuffyFan4ever, sadie, Finey McFine, JustSkipIt, DaddyCatALSO, WR/TM, Agilulfa , Ariel, SMGOVAN, Promthea128, KnightlyLove, Silent_X, BeMyDeputy, beautiful_love, love_2003, vampyregurl73, Lady Callie, taranwillow4ever, Mgraham93, wiccanvixen, brave-little-toaster, wimpy0729, viximon, davislm, and Kajun.
For leaving feedback. Even the briefest comment let me know that you were reading and enjoying the story. It was a wonderful motivation.
Chapter 14
She could hear her heart beat.
Willow shifted slightly, pressing her cheek closer to Tara’s breast. The strong, steady rhythm seeped into every cell of her body. Their conversation was a tangled heap of words, just outside her reach. She would have to unravel it all, she knew that. But later. Now, she was busy, listening to Tara’s heart beating.
A hand stroked her hair, running from her forehead to the nape of her neck, over and over. There was nothing tentative about the touch. Every pass was firm. It made her feel solid, as if she had substance. Willow smiled to herself. She was anchored again.
‘Sweetie, we should get up.’
Willow couldn’t see her, but she knew from her voice that Tara was smiling.
‘Don’t want to.’ Willow kept her eyes closed.
‘Even when there’s a nice bed waiting for us along the hall?’ The tone was light and teasing, but Willow felt the beating in her ear speed up a little.
With a theatrical sigh, Willow raised her head and squinted up.
‘Promise?’
Tara’s face was very close to hers, alight with amusement.
‘I promise.’
They both struggled to get up, pressing against the wall with one hand, almost overbalancing, holding on to each other for support.
‘Ow! Ow!’
‘What is it?’ Tara’s voice was sharp with alarm as Willow began to hop, her face contorted into a grimace.
‘My foot went to sleep!’
Tara tightened her arm around Willow’s waist as they hobbled into the bedroom.
‘You big baby!’
‘Am not!’ Willow exaggerated her limp, and pursed her lips dramatically. The childish banter was silly, she knew, but it was soothing. Soothing, and at the same time it made her skin prickle.
***********
Tara used her shoulder to push open the door to Willow’s bedroom. The glow of a small nightlight transformed the furniture into grey, geometric shapes. Tara turned towards the bed, and, still clutching Willow firmly around the waist, swung them both round and deposited her gently on top of the covers. Straightening up, she failed to notice Willow’s hand, still entangled in her shirt, and abruptly pitched forward, landing face down on the bed, onto a pillow of red hair.
Willow giggled.
Tara lifted her head and scowled, which only made Willow giggle more. Reaching down, Tara flicked on the bedside lamp and Willow shrank back from the sudden brightness.
‘Sorry, sorry.’ Tara moved quickly to shield Willow’s eyes. After blinking rapidly for a few moments, Willow seemed to focus on Tara’s arm, where her shirt sleeve had ridden up, exposing bare skin.
‘How did this happen?’ Her tone was sharp, taking Tara by surprise.
‘What?’
Tara squinted at the skin of her forearm and eventually made out a faint pink line.
‘Um . . . cooking, maybe? I don’t remember.’
‘You should be more careful.’ The sternness of Willow’s reply was belied by the gentle brush of her lips on the fading scar.
‘I will,’ said Tara.
************
Tara pushed herself up and slid back off the bed, feeling for the ground with her toes. When she got to her feet she scraped back her hair and smoothed down her clothes.
‘I think I ruined it.’ Willow said, staring at Tara’s shirt ruefully.
Tara tugged the fabric.
‘Nah. I like it like this.’
Tara grinned, waiting for an answering smile from Willow. When she got it, she turned away and crossed the bedroom to the window. For a second she pressed her fingertips against the cool glass, speckled with raindrops, then pulled the drapes shut with a decisive tug, and walked back to the foot of the bed. Willow was sitting up, propped against the headboard, tracking her every move. Tara paused, watching Willow watching her, then she pulled her shirt over her head and folded it roughly before placing it on the chair at her side. She unbuttoned her pants and let them fall, gracefully stepping out of them. She stooped to pick them up without breaking eye contact with Willow. She removed her bra and underwear in the same, unhurried way, tossing the garments onto the chair. Her eyes never left Willow. When she was naked, she stood completely still.
She could feel Willow’s eyes on her, pressing on her skin, like a physical sensation. Tara waited until Willow’s gaze came back up to her face, then paused. Then she grabbed a pair of baggy pyjamas from the back of the chair, slipped the top over her head and stepped into the bottoms. When she looked up, Willow was pouting in disappointment. Tara laughed, because when she’d reached for the clothing she had caught the flicker of relief that passed across Willow’s face, and a weight she had not known she was carrying had fallen away at the sight.
Tara finished buttoning up the pyjama top as she climbed onto the bed and crawled over to Willow, dragging her into a clumsy embrace. Then she pulled away a little, until her lips were almost touching Willow’s ear.
‘There’s no rush.’ She felt Willow nod against her shoulder.
‘We can take our time.’ Tara pulled back further until she could see Willow’s face. The pout was back, but the eyes were sparkling.
‘Ok . . . so long as I get to sleep with you every night,’ Willow said in a grudging tone, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth.
Tara tapped her on the nose playfully.
‘You did that the first time too.’
She thought back to those first weeks, when Willow had stayed overnight in her dorm room. Nights which had filled her with hope and despair in equal measure. She smiled at the memory now.
Willow grinned in acknowledgement, then her expression was serious again as she spoke softly, ‘I’d like that.’
************
Willow slid off the bed onto unsteady legs. The sight of Tara had stunned her. The image still floated in front of her eyes, like a bright light after a flash bulb flared.
Tara had undressed in front of her countless times. In the beginning, with a heart-squeezing shyness. Later, sometimes, with brazen promise. And often, with unself-conscious ease, thinking of nothing but a warm bed and sleep.
Countless times, but never like this.
Willow walked slowly to the end of the bed. She needed a moment, a few seconds away from the nakedness of Tara’s eyes.
She had once had permission to touch that body. Permission granted freely. It was hard to believe. Impossible to believe.
Once, she had known that body better than her own. A tender geographer, she had mapped every contour, explored every texture, memorized every mark.
The image of muddy boots, tracking across a pristine floor flashed through her mind.
I’ll never deserve to . . . Tara will surely . . . what was I thinking? Her thoughts jerked in a rising tide of unease.
Willow pulled a T-shirt and pyjama bottoms from the pile of washing that seemed to rest permanently on the chair by her bed. The tower of clean laundry had grown even taller with Tara’s clothes and now it wobbled alarmingly. Willow lunged at it, grabbing hold to stop it falling.
A soft giggle made her look up. Tara was watching. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, she shone.
And Willow remembered. From the beginning, when they had no words - she had known it even then.
No matter what demon was at her door, Tara was the answer.
A warm feeling spread through her body. She straightened up and gave Tara a scolding look.
‘It isn’t nice to laugh at the co-ordination-challenged, you know.’
‘I wasn’t laughing,’ Tara lied shamelessly, the grin still on her face.
I make her happy. The thought struck Willow like a sudden, unexpected wave, rocking her back on her heels. She put one hand on the back of the chair to steady herself.
I make her happy. Willow began to undress, dropping her top onto the heap carelessly, without looking. The room was cold but she didn’t feel it. Her skin seemed to heat with every layer of clothing she discarded. When she was naked, she stopped for a moment. Tara smiled, a slight dip of her head the only movement. Willow smiled back and picked up the crumpled T shirt.
As she pulled one arm into the shirt, she waved the other in the direction of the top Tara was wearing.
‘Those are my favourite pyjamas.’ Her aggrieved tone was undermined somewhat by the smile she was failing to suppress.
Tara smirked, unrepentant.
‘I know. I bought them.’
************
Willow lay in Tara’s arms, her back curved against the pillow of her breasts. Her hands rested on top of Tara’s, which were clasped firmly around her waist.
She wanted to stay like this forever.
She could feel Tara’s warm, steady breath on the nape of her neck. She could smell the faint citrus of her hair.
But she wanted to see her face. She needed to look into her eyes.
Tara smiled. She recognised the slight tensing of Willow’s body. It meant she was about to move, to fidget. Tara knew this and that made her smile.
With wordless sounds of frustration, Willow turned over, dragging bed clothes with her, rocking the mattress with her ungainly movements, until at last she settled on her other side, facing Tara.
Willow’s breathing slowed as she finally lay still. Tara leaned towards her till their foreheads touched, then moved back so that she could see her properly. For a long time, Tara just stared, revelling in the freedom of openly appreciating every detail of her lover’s face.
Then Willow rested her fingertips on Tara’s temple, and traced a slow arc across her forehead. With a delicate touch, she followed the line of her cheekbones, brushed her eyelids, then down the side of her nose - which Tara wrinkled.
‘That tickles.’
To her surprise, Willow did not smile or speak. She continued moving her fingertips, now tracing the line of Tara’s lips.
‘I used to do this.’ Willow sounded distracted, her attention focused on the careful movement of her hand.
‘Hmm?’ Tara murmured, mesmerized by the soft touch.
‘Here.’ Willow waved her free hand to indicate the bedroom. ‘At night. When I couldn’t sleep.’
‘What?’
Even in the dim light, Tara saw the flush spread across Willow’s cheeks.
‘Not all the time. I mean, sometimes.’ Willow began to pull her hand away, her eyes downcast. ‘It was kind of a treat.’
Tara caught the hand and brought it back to her. She pictured Willow, alone in her bed, tracing from memory the features of her face. Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away quickly, before Willow could notice. Tara uncurled Willow’s fingers and kissed the palm of her hand.
‘It’s nice,’ Tara said softly, ‘It’s perfect.’
After a moment’s hesitation, Willow brought her hand to the side of Tara’s jaw and resumed her journey.
************
In the still room, Willow’s voice sounded unnaturally loud,
‘When I go to England, will you come with me?’
‘Yes.’
The instant, emphatic reply seemed to startle Willow. She waited, as if expecting Tara to add something.
As she struggled for the right response, Willow suddenly realised something - thanks were not wanted, not needed. The thought caused a surge of joy. She saw her own feelings reflected in Tara’s face.
A final flurry of rain pattered against the bedroom window.
‘So, what do you want to do tomorrow?’ Exhaustion slurred Willow’s words a little, but Tara caught the hint of excitement in her voice.
She gave a lazy smile.
‘This. Just this.’ Reaching out, she pulled Willow closer, and the near-silence of the room was once again disturbed only by the sound of their rhythmic breathing.
****************************