by EasierSaid » Sat Mar 06, 2010 10:25 pm
Title: Neverland
Author: EasierSaid
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: None.
Setting: AU. There is no Hellmouth, there is no slayer and no magic of the wicca variety. Just our girls and the rest of the Buffy characters living and loving in that great city by the bay, San Francisco.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Please don't sue me Mutant Enemy.
Notes: "That's it?"
Thoughts in italics
PART 53
It was the oddest feeling. She almost floated down the stairs and into her studio under a spotlight. After an afternoon spent in the near-dark, the lights of her home seemed to beat down on her from every direction, brightly lighting up every crack and crevice of her home and making her feel illuminated from every angle. And, after an afternoon spent in comparable silence, she could hear everything, from the hum of the refrigerator to the buzz of the overhead lights, as if amplified by a wall of speakers. The affect was surreal, and mixed with the emotional short she was experiencing after spending the afternoon baring her soul, and witnessing Willow bare hers, she felt both numb and electrified. It felt like every nerve in her body was standing on end, yet she was completely unable to process the thoughts that were sluggishly and stubbornly sloshing around in her brain. Her senses on alert, her mind on lockdown.
As she settled into her studio, the heavy rain whooshing outside, she glanced at the stereo to her left and thought about pressing play. Of just picking up where she had left off when the power had cut out, but the longer she stared at the sound set, the more the thought of listening to someone else sing grated. It would be too harsh, and a little part of her was afraid that the recorded music would poke another hole in the still perfection that had been that afternoon. So, instead she hummed to herself a song off her best of compilation, one that her mom had liked when Tara was a kid. The blonde picked up a blank canvas and placed it gently on a wood easel in the middle of the room. She put a few blobs of blue paint on a glass palette, and softly sang a few lines of remembered verse in snatches as she worked, the rain outside providing a subtle accompaniment.
She had painted four dots in a row, each a slightly different shade of blue, when the phone rang. It startled her, the ring loud and shrill. She put the palette down on the floor and wiped her hands on the rag hanging from the easel before crossing to her drafting table and picking up the receiver on the third ring. "Hello?"
"Hey," came the perky reply.
"Buffy," Tara exhaled with a nervous smile. She leaned her hip against the table and absently brushed a few flyaway strands of hair from her face. "Hey."
"So," the petite blonde asked, her voice playful. "How was the date?"
"Oh," the blonde said, puffing out a bit of air. So, we're jumping right in... "W-We didn't. The timing." She took a deep breath, nervously preparing herself for the inescapable. "We decided not to see each other. To, not, date."
"Oh," Buffy said, slightly surprised. "Was it you, her...?"
"Her, but." Tara again exhaled as she searched for what to say next. She needed to be honest. No matter how mercilessly she expected to be teased, how annoyed she'd be as Buffy started in on her, again, she needed to be honest. And honestly, wasn't honesty the theme of the afternoon? "If she hadn't, I mean, I would have said no."
"Cool."
Tara's brow furrowed. "Cool." She was talking to Buffy Summers, right? "Isn't, isn't this the part where you give me a h-hard time about being a lesbian nun?"
"I'm not that bad." Tara could practically see the eye roll over the phone as her own eyes went wide.
"But?" The blonde prepared herself for the inevitable rejoinder.
"But what?" Came the bouncy reply.
Buffy Summers. Petite, perky, best friend? Tara was almost stunned into silence, her mouth working awkwardly around the words as she sputtered, "I just, I thought you were going to say something else." The words shriveled in her mouth as she finished.
"You didn't seem into her," Buffy said, almost with an audible shrug. "I respect that."
"Really?" The blonde held her breath.
"God, am I that bad?" Before Tara could respond, the petite blonde chuckled. "Don't answer that." The blonde could hear a soft sigh. "You have a lot of stuff on your plate right now. Maybe dating the really hot artist isn't the best idea."
"Really?"
"Really," Buffy answered, her voice dripping in mirth. There was a sizable pause and Tara let it be, unsure of what to say next. This was not the conversation she was expecting. Also the theme of the day, apparently. "So what's happening in SF?" The petite blonde finally asked. "Does it miss me yet?"
Tara broke into a wide grin and pushed off the desk, taking a few, slow steps as she spoke. "Yes, the city of San Francisco misses you."
"I've been gone so long that I'm starting to miss the fog. The fog, Tare." Tara chuckled and started to slowly pace the room. "So what's been going on? Tell me everything, even the boring parts."
"The power was out today," the blonde said as she approached the windows, her eyes watching water stream down the glass, the surface lit by the streetlight below. "The whole week has been stormy, but today was really bad. It just came back on about a half hour ago."
"Power outage; that makes sense," Buffy said. "I mean, I tried calling earlier, no answer, and nobody was on IM. No power, no computer, no Internet; Willow must have freaked."
"Actually, she didn't," Tara said with a soft shake of her head. "We just hung out by the fire and talked."
"Yeah?" The petite blonde asked, surprised.
"Yeah."
"About...?" Buffy led, her voice curious.
"Stuff," the blonde answered, looking to her feet. Okay, so maybe the honesty only goes so far, Tara thought, wanting to keep the details, the intimacy, of her earlier interaction with Willow to herself. Private.
"Stuff," the petite blonde repeated. "Okay. Stuff is good." There was another sizable pause. "What else has been going on—I feel so out of the loop."
"We went to a concert last night at The Fillmore," the blonde said, as she started to loop back to her desk. "The Black Keys. It was really fun."
"We."
"Me and Willow," the blonde clarified.
"Huh," Buffy said. "You guys sure are spending a lot of time together."
"Yeah," Tara said, a warm smile overtaking her features, her stomach fluttering at the thought. "It's really, nice."
"Nice is also good." Buffy paused. "And, you, your other stuff is going well?"
"Other, stuff..." Tara led, confused.
"Painting?" The petite blonde asked. "Source of your livelihood?"
"Oh, yeah," the blonde said, shaking her head. "I finished a painting last night. Two down, two to go."
"And the deadline's a week from today?" Buffy asked.
"Yup," Tara answered, nerves suddenly rushing in as she thought about the Herculean task in front of her.
"Pfft. You totally have it in the bag," the petite blonde said confidently. "Or the brush. Whatever the appropriate metaphor is for this situation."
Tara smiled before dipping her head and saying softly, "I wish I had your confidence."
"Then take it, it's yours," Buffy replied, cheerfully. "A one week loan. Consider it my gift to the arts."
The gesture struck the blonde squarely in the heart. "Thanks," she said softly, her face graced with a warm smile. It was moments like this that hammered home why Buffy was her best friend. Despite the occasional teasing, the petite blonde was always quick to offer support, there to help when things got rocky. The smile faded from the blonde's face as she thought about how much she had kept from her best friend, as once again the truth of her love for Willow swelled, seizing her tongue and clawing at her throat in an effort to be shared. She stopped pacing and looked to the floor. "Buffy..." she began, her voice growing very serious.
"Yeah?"
Tara winced, the enormity of her cowardice hitting her full force. She looked up and sighed, her eyes screwed tight. "You, you h-have't said anything about your time. Still having fun with Dawn?" Coward. Coward, coward, coward...
"Yeah," Buffy said and the blonde's brow furrowed as she opened her eyes. Was it just her imagination, or did the petite blonde's voice carry an undertone? Had she known Tara was going to say something else? "Dawn's very... opinionated."
Tara couldn't help but laugh at that, the passing thought that Buffy had another conversation in mind leaving her as quickly as it came. "And that's bad?"
"No," Buffy said effortlessly. "Unless it differs from my opinion."
"Of course." Tara smiled, and she began another loop through her studio.
"She's great," the petite blonde said, "but..."
"But?" The blonde asked.
"She's, a woman, you know?" Buffy said, her voice confessional. "I mean, as much as she's still my annoyingly bratty little sister, who thinks she knows more than me and lives to bug me in new and unique ways, she's, a woman. We were out yesterday and it just hit me how she's like this fully formed person."
Tara nodded. "And that's hard, huh. Dawnie, all grown up."
"A little bit," the petite blonde said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, so not missing little Miss Get-Out-Get-Out-Get-Out, but sometimes, I just feel like I'm missing out on so much. Her here, me there."
The blonde nodded. "But you'll see her at Christmas."
"And that's only a few months away, I know. It's just, I wish sometimes that it was different." Tara nodded. "But enough sappy stuff," the petite blonde said. "What are you going to get up to tonight?"
"Work," the blonde replied. "I'm going to use my new confidence and maybe knock out those two paintings," she teased.
"Apologies in advance if my confidence in any way diminishes your considerable talents." Tara chuckled. "And tomorrow, work?"
The blonde nodded. "I think it's safe to say that, 'work', is the answer to any, 'what are you doing' questions until I finish."
"Or until Willow asks you to do something," the blonde said. Tara frowned. "I'm sorry, that sounded totally snarky."
"No, that's okay," the blonde said slowly, her brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"
There was a slight pause. "Yeah," came the breezy reply. "Just, homesick for my homegirls, I guess."
"Homegirls?" Tara asked, amused.
Buffy sighed. "It's like her music is infecting me."
The blonde snickered. "Well, hang in there, it's only two more days."
"And then I'll miss her. Go figure."
"Buffy," Tara said, her voice sincere, as she stopped pacing. "Thanks."
"For what?" Came the perky reply.
"For everything," the blonde said.
"Of course, anytime. We'll talk more later?"
"Soon, yeah," Tara said with a head bob.
"Okay, goodnight."
"Night," the blonde said, hanging up the call and dropping the receiver to her side. She tapped it against her leg a couple of times, a crinkle in her brow. Something bothered her about Buffy's "snarky" comment. She was sure the petite blonde didn't mean how it sounded, yet something else was there. She shook her head as she deposited the receiver and returned to her easel. She picked up the palette and brush and looked to the canvas before her. It was going to be hard enough keeping Willow out of her mind as she worked, she didn't need Buffy there too. The blonde closed her eyes and took a few deep, centering breaths. After a long moment just being, she opened her eyes and dipped the brush into a few blobs of paint, swirling them together, her mind shifted entirely to the color and movement before her.
************************************************************
Buffy hung up the phone, a slight frown on her lips. She tossed the mobile onto the bed next to where she sat and stared at the small electronic. She sighed, wondering if she should have said more. Asked more. But how? And what was it she even wanted to say? Needed to say, needed to ask? She looked up as Dawn re-entered the room, a brush in hand. The tall girl stepped in front of a mirror and started to work on her hair.
"Who was that?" She asked, a rubber band between her teeth.
"Tara," the petite blonde answered, looking up from her phone and turning her attention to her younger sister.
"Oh yeah," Dawn said, taking the rubber band from her teeth and putting it around her wrist. "Any progress with her straight girl?"
"Huh?" Buffy asked, blankly.
"The straight girl?" Dawn clarified. "That she is so totally and obviously in love with?" She looked at Buffy's confused face in the mirror. "That I told you about yesterday?" She turned to her sister and frowned. "Do you even listen to me at all?"
Buffy groaned and rubbed a hand over her forehead. Straight girl. Of course. She sighed and frowned as she replayed snippets of recent conversations with Tara in her head. Why did her gut feelings always have to be right?
"You totally know who it is," Dawn said, a large smile on her face. Buffy looked up, her face neutral. Dawn's brows rose expectantly and Buffy's brows rose in return. After a long moment of staring at each other, Dawn squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin, her eyes narrowing. "You know I'm going to find out eventually."
"And I can't wait to talk to future-you all about it," Buffy replied, breezily.
Dawn stomped her foot and turned back to the mirror. "It's so unfair; you treat me like a kid."
A wry smile crept across the petite blonde's lips. "You do realize you just stomped your foot, right, cause adults don't do that."
Dawn whirled around. "Buffy–"
"Dawn," the petite blonde said, exasperated. "I have a hunch, okay, which is not the same as knowing so I'd rather talk to Tara about it first, okay?"
"Fine," the younger Summers girl said with a shake of the head, turning back to the mirror.
"Dawn," Buffy drew out. "Let's not do this, okay? I only have two more days and there are many, many other things we can bicker about. For instance, those are my earrings. I know you took them last summer, give them back or die by tickle."
Dawn turned and pulled a face. "Tickle? What are you, five?"
"Says the foot-stomper."
Disbelief colored the younger girl's face. "I'm like, a foot taller than you."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, cause nothing stops tickles like height."
"Fine, whatever," Dawn said, quickly taking the earrings off and putting them on the bed.
Buffy eased back, crisis averted. "Now is tonight Best Chowder Night or Quiz Night with the Gang?"
"Quiz night," Dawn replied, pulling her hair into a pony tail and fetching a new pair of earrings off the top of her dresser.
"Cool," Buffy said, pocketing her returned earrings and cell phone as she stood. "I promise I'll pretend to be interested until I'm actually interested."
Dawn rolled her eyes as she put the second earring in. "And that's all I can ask of you." She turned back to her sister. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," the petite blonde said. The girls grabbed their jackets and purses and headed out into the chilly Boston night.
************************************************************
It was a little before 10 when Tara finally stopped. She leaned the canvas she had been working on against the wall opposite the door and stepped back, taking in her handy work. Four canvases sat side by side, each covered in silver dollar sized dots. It looked like four, oversized sheets of candy buttons, and for a moment she swore that if she scraped at a color it would pop off into her hand, a little circle of sugar and food coloring. Green, blue, yellow and red; each canvas holding approximately 28 different versions of each color. It was an exercise she used to try new colors, or to color match. The red canvas had been most difficult. Try as she might, she couldn't pinpoint the exact color of red she desired, that perfect match for Willow's hair in front of the firelight. She sighed. Sometimes ideas—no matter how firmly visualized—were elusive.
She rubbed her right hand with her left thumb, pinpricks of pain shooting down her wrist. She was sore, and would likely be sore again tomorrow. She moved to the basin in the corner and soaped up, the coarse Lava soap scrubbing at her paint-stained hands. After a few long moments, she let the water wash the gritty soap away. She inspected her hands; there were still bits of paint in the cracks and groves of her hand, especially near her nails, but nothing major.
She wiped her hands dry and turned left, flipping off the studio light before exiting. She stopped at the thermostat in the hall and dropped the temperature a couple of degrees, setting it up for night and then took the stairs wearily. She wasn't surprised when she turned the corner and saw Willow's door slightly ajar, casting a sliver of light into the otherwise dark hallway. Music played softly and the blonde smiled. She stepped forward and lightly knocked on the door.
"Come in."
The blonde pushed the door open with her left hand and cautiously peeked around the edge. She smiled warmly as she saw Willow in her pajamas, sitting in front of her computer, as awake as she had been when she had returned from the cafe. Mochas, indeed. Leaning against the corner of one of her computer monitors was the small green canvas she made for the girl Monday. The blonde's eyes caught a glimpse of 'Confusing' on the wall to her left and she inwardly groaned. She needed to give Willow a real painting.
As the redhead turned to face her, the blonde recognized the comfy sweatshirt Willow had worn that night on the stairs when the slim girl had asked if they were friends. The memory hit her hard. Willow's pale skin in the moonlight, the night's silence pushing all around them as she stood unevenly on the steps. It had felt like a dream. Was that really only a little more than a week ago? She smiled softly. "Am I interrupting?"
"Nope." Willow smiled at the sight of her roommate. She had hoped Tara'd stop by on her way to bed, and now, being a mere six feet away from her, the redhead felt giddy. The hours since their time together had sped by. She had been so immersed with work that she had barely had time to think about their afternoon before the fire. In the moments she did allow her mind to wander all she could do was blush and sit awestruck as she realized just how much the blonde must trust her to have shared such painful memories. She trusts me. She met the blonde's eye and smiled even wider, her stomach fluttering. Sure there were nerves, there are always nerves but mostly Willow found her tummy flutters were because she was just happy. To her core, deep-in-her-bones, happy to be in Tara's presence again. "I'm just reading some news online while this process runs and listening to music."
"What are you listening to?" The blonde asked, opening the door all the way, her hand still resting on the handle. The song was pleasant and catchy; something she would probably listen to.
"That," Willow said, leaning back in her chair toward her computer, "is a good question." She clicked the mouse once, and read, "Robert Pollard, 'Love is Stronger Than Witchcraft'."
"Hmm," Tara said with an thoughtful nod of the head, her hand letting go of the door knob. "I wonder if that's true."
"I think so," Willow said, turning back to the blonde. "I mean, I'd hope so. Love should be stronger than everything." Tara smiled brightly and chuckled. "What? Too cheesy?" The redhead responded, her own voice nudging the blonde to reply.
"No, the perfect amount of cheesy." Tara's smile was radiant, her heart swelling for the woman sitting across from her. She dipped her head and looked back up. "I was actually laughing because, it's just, you have so much music you don't even know what you're listening to. Happen a lot?"
"All the time," the redhead said with a playful roll of her eyes. "Bryan has this MP3 blog, so I end up downloading random songs all of the time. Barely have time to listen to them once. They pop up all the time when I have it on shuffle."
Bryan, It was a name she hadn't heard the redhead say in a long while. "How's Bryan doing?"
"I don't know, I haven't heard from him since that night at the club." She sported an impish smile. "He has a new boyfriend so I'll probably hear from him again... if they break up or the boyfriend gets boring." She paused. "It's sort of his thing. Was annoying at first but now I get it. Hard to make time for little old me when he has this shiny new toy to play with, you know?"
The blonde nodded and noticed as a new song filtered through the air. Crickets chirping gave way to a thrumming baseline and a few, repeating guitar notes. A soft tish of a cymbal, an insistent drumbeat. It felt like anticipation. Tara smiled slowly, the music oozing around them like honey. "It's hard to imagine anyone not making time for you."
Willow smiled brightly. A male voice started to sing, the song settling into the room. It felt warm, the lush guitar dancing over a persistent thump. It made the blonde feel bold. "How's your work gone?"
"Slowly," Willow said with an exaggerated eye roll. "Probably another hour or two before I pack it in tonight. You?"
"Tedious," Tara said with a smile. "But done for tonight."
"Sounds like we've both had fun tonight," Willow said.
"Yeah," Tara said with a slight chuckle. They stared for a moment, before the blonde reached over and wrapped her fingers around the door knob. She twisted it in her hand, the cold metal's chill seeping up her arm, cooling her flesh and calming her racing heart. She could continue talking, let the music urge her to find a reason to stay, but it was late, and Willow needed to work. She shyly dipped her head, and took a small step back. "Well, I won't keep you, I just wanted to say goodnight."
"Goodnight?" Willow asked confused, her words stopping Tara's movement. "What about my story?"
Willow's tone was indignant and adorable, and the blonde's brows arched as she brought her head up and made eye contact with the redhead. "Now?"
"Do you have something better to do?" Willow asked as she fought a smile, her eyes twinkling. It was like the afternoon's honesty combined with the knowledge that Morgan was out of the picture had injected her with flirty juice. She felt dizzy and euphoric and she couldn't imagine the evening ending with just a brief chat. Collecting on the afternoon's rainchecked story seemed, at that moment, like the most natural thing in the world.
"Um, sleep?" The blonde said amused, her relaxed body leaning into the door frame.
"Are you tired?" The redhead playfully challenged.
"Define 'tired'?" The blonde teased back, cocking her head to the side.
"Sleepy?" The redhead raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a warm smile.
Tara let the question sit for a moment before answering, a slow smile pulling at her lips. Does she have any idea how in love with her I am? "No."
Willow's face broke into a wide grin. "Then park it, missy." She pointed to the edge of her bed and swiveled her chair to face the spot. She reached behind her without looking, and after fumbling a bit, turned the music down to a barely noticeable hum.
The blonde's brow rose again and she had to fight down a chuckle as she came off the door frame. "Don't you have work to finish?
"I do," Willow said with a head nod. "But I can take a break for a fun, French Resistance-themed animal tale. I've been looking forward to it all night." She shimmied in her chair, as Tara stepped more fully into the room. "I even have a theory as to how Jacques and Lawrence got involved with de Gaulle."
"Jaque and Lawrence?"
"Jacque the dolphin and Lawrence the camel," Willow said. "Though, you said half camel, so I guess his name is actually Lawr."
Tara's lips pulled into a lopsided grin. "It's actually Lar. Short for Larry." She sat down on the edge of the bed and tucked her right leg under her left, her knee jutting out.
"Of course, Lawr is too formal." They shared a warm smile. Willow exhaled happily and slapped her hands on her thighs. "Okay, go."
Tara opened her mouth and then closed it again. She had no idea what she was doing. "The year was 1943–"
"Wait." Willow sprung up out of her office chair and practically sailed onto the bed, the blonde's eyes going wide at the sight. The redhead quickly climbed to the head of the bed and grabbed her floppy dog off of her pillow, Tara turning to follow her roommate with a surprised gaze as she moved. Willow turned and crossed her legs, snuggling the dog to her chest as she faced Tara. She beamed as she spoke. "Okay, ready."
"Okay." Tara felt a blush climb up her neck. The sight of Willow, in pjs, snuggling her stuffed dog as she waited on a story from her turned her heart into a pile of lovestruck goo. She shifted to get more comfortable, her mind swimming as she tried to think of a tale to tell. "So, um, the year was 1943. Jacque and Lar met in a secluded sea port. Jacque, just back from sabotaging U-Boats off the coast of Newfoundland, Lar from the fight in North Africa."
Willow's brow crinkled. "This is surprisingly historically accurate."
"Well it's a true story," Tara said seriously.
"Ah," the redhead said with a slight head nod.
"As related in Lar's autobiography, 'Two Legs, One World War, One-Half Hump'." Willow giggled and Tara grinned widely. "Okay, so they met at the seaport, to plan how to help de Gaulle. Lar thought the best bet was to blow up an important supply bridge just outside of Paris. Jacque tried to nix the plan, claiming he wouldn't be able to help because Paris is land locked, but Lar pointed out he could always just sneaky-swim up the Seine. Jacque said, 'I know that,' but in actuality, he didn't. Geography was never his strongest subject."
"Dolphin dropout, huh?" Willow asked with a solemn head bob.
"Oh no, he graduated," Tara reassured. "There was just a pretty porpoise in that class. Sort of distracting."
"Hussy," Willow replied.
Tara chuckled. "Okay, so where was I?" She started to absentmindedly rub the ache in her hand, and Willow's eyes dipped to see the movement.
"What's wrong with your hand?" She asked, worried.
Tara looked down to see the subconscious movement and looked back up with a sheepish smile. "Nothing, just a little sore from painting."
Willow pushed her dog to the side and leaned forward, her hands out, palm up. "Let me see."
Tara stopped rubbing and shook her head. "It's nothing"
Willow's brows arched in disbelief. "I'm a computer programmer, I know a little something about repetitive stress injuries. They actually make you take a class when you start at SutterSoft called, 'Carpel Tunnel and You.'"
Tara frowned. "Really, it's fine."
Willow's brows arched even higher. "Do you want to be the wacky artist with tan wrist braces?"
Tara laughed. Adorable. "Willow, I'm fine."
The redhead leaned back with a shrug, mock resigned. "Okay, monkey claw."
Tara's brow furrowed. "Did you just call me 'monkey claw'?"
The redhead suddenly looked worried. "Cause, with the hand," she hastily explained. She curled her hand up into her best monkey claw impersonation. "Like, a B horror movie?"
"'Monkey claw'," Tara deadpanned.
"Okay, crone fingers, whatever," Willow said with an exaggerated eye roll.
"'Monkey cla'–"
"Stop." The redhead blushed as she smiled and swatted the blonde's knee. She held her hands out again, palm up. "Please?"
Tara rolled her eyes. "Fine, but there's nothin– ow!"
"Uh huh," Willow said, appraising her roommate as she smoothed over the skin near the girl's wrist where she had just pressed her own thumb. "Nothing wrong, eh monkey claw?" Tara rolled her eyes, an embarrassed smile on her lips. She sat there as Willow inspected her wrist and started to gently rub near the fleshy part of her thumb. The blonde's breath sucked in at the light touch. "Does that hurt?"
"No." Tara's hand tingled at the gentle touch, the redhead's warm fingers trailing soft caresses over her skin.
"Good." After a long moment gently massaging the blonde's wrist and palm, Willow giggled softly and Tara smiled.
"What?"
"Your hands are colorful." She turned the artist's hand in hers, tracing a finger over the few bits of paint the blonde hadn't been able to wash off.
"You mean messy," Tara replied, embarrassed.
"Nope, colorful," Willow reiterated. "It's pretty."
Tara blushed. "Thank you."
"It reminds me of– ow." Willow winced as she looked up too quickly and a searing pain shot down her neck. She immediately brought her left hand up to rub the tender muscle.
Tara's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with your neck?"
"Nothing, just a little twinge," the redhead said, as she lightly rubbed the sore muscle, her right thumb never ceasing to move back and forth over the hand she gently held. "Slept funny."
"Et tu, monkey... er, neck." Willow smiled politely and Tara slightly frowned at her failed joke. She recovered with a smile and reluctantly pulled her hand from the redhead's grasp, realizing with a moment's shock that they had essentially been holding hands. The blonde shook the thought and put her own hands out, palm up. "Let me see." Willow went to shake her head no and winced as her neck pinched. Tara rolled her eyes. "Come here," she said softly.
"You're going to rub my monkey neck with your monkey claw," Willow teased, disbelievingly.
"No... But that's the advantage of having two hands, you can use the other one when one gets tired or sore." Both girls blushed, and Tara muttered, "T-That sounded less dirty in my head."
"That's what she said!" Willow blurted excitedly, and Tara's brow raised in response. "Er, the dirty part, not the 'in my head' part.'" Her voice was sheepish as she continued. "That's what she said."
Tara rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips, and beckoned the girl to come closer. The redhead complied, scooting close and turning around. Tara reached up to Willow's neck, gently brushing her hair away. "Where does it hurt?" she asked softly, her fingers starting to gently rub against soft, freckled skin.
"Right, there," the redhead squeaked, the blonde's fingers quickly finding the source of her pain.
Tara just about died, Willow's innocent words eliciting very dirty thoughts. If she had been more relaxed, she would have playfully joked, 'that's what she said' back, but the remark died in her throat. She was too self-conscious of her hand on Willow's skin to let loose such a loaded remark. She didn't want to accidentally make the redhead uncomfortable, and truthfully, she didn't want to open herself up to the stuttering that would almost inevitably come with the statement.
She continued to rub, her hand softly moving along Willow's skin, mindful of not pressing too hard and exacerbating the redhead's tender neck. Despite her nerves, it felt right. Soft, warm, her fingers tingled as they moved, and she died a little death when she heard Willow softly sigh and relax into her touch.
Tara held her breath, her fingers still working despite her stilled breathing. It would be so easy. So easy to lean forward and kiss the redhead's neck. The little patch of exposed skin right below her hairline, right behind her left ear where Tara's thumb rubbed tiny circles seemed to call out to her. Her tongue could reach out and flick the girl's earlobe, her arm could wrap around Willow in a gentle embrace. She swallowed hard and licked her lips, exhaling quietly as her desire for the girl she loved built with each gentle stroke of her hand.
After a long moment, the redhead rolled her shoulders and turned to face Tara, a smile on her face. She wanted to be polite and let her roommate try to help, but there was no way she could fully relax and the light touches were turning her on. As, evidenced by my super embarrassing sigh moan. The look on the blonde's face as they made eye contact surprised the redhead; the girl's clear, blue eyes were dark. It was like the look Willow had sworn she had seen earlier that afternoon as she turned from the fire. The naked, unguarded look that made the redhead shiver. Love and desire flooded Willow's frame. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss Tara. They weren't that far apart; she could put a palm flat on the bed for balance and just close the distance between them. Soft lips pressing together, the blonde's breath caressing her face. Her eyes flicked down to the blonde's two red lips, and the little dimple that appeared when Tara pressed the lips together. Willow had to force her eyes up. She smiled softly. "Thanks for the neck rub. All better."
The words broke Tara's reverie, snapping her back into the moment and the reality of her situation. She dipped her head, hair falling forward. "Y-You're welcome." She looked up and smiled bashfully, pushing the hair behind her ears.
There was a moment of awkward silence, and the redhead worried that she had done or said something to cause the change in mood. She leaned forward slightly, holding her hair to the side to uncover the just-rubbed skin. "Do I have paint on my neck?"
"Um," Tara's brow furrowed and she started to lean in for a look when the redhead dropped her hand, turned back and grinned widely.
"Just kidding."
The blonde broke into a lopsided smile, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she dipped her head and took in her colorful hands. "Ha ha, very funny." She looked up and her heart sang as she recognized the girl sitting across from her. It was the girl she fell in love with three years ago. Not her awkward roommate Willow, or Buffy's friend Willow. It was flirty, funny, sexy Willow from that day in the park. A little older, her hair a little longer, but it was her, without a doubt. Tara swallowed hard, and a part of her wanted to say, 'there you are'.
Willow grinned like a fool as she took in the shy smile on Tara's face. "I try," the redhead said with a slight shimmy. They stared for a moment and Willow took a deep breath. I can't just keep staring... "So..."
"The story," Tara said, shifting back slightly as she looked down at the bedspread. Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember where she was. "I think they were getting ready to go to Paris..."
"Tara, you don't have to finish," the redhead said, reaching forward and squeezing the blonde's knee. They made eye contact and Willow self-consciously dropped her hand. "I know you're probably pretty tired, and I realize this is pretty silly."
"I am, and this is," Tara said with a head nod and bright smile. "But I'll never forgive myself if I leave you wondering about poor Jacque and Lar." The redhead smiled softly. "Because I think you would, wonder?" The blonde smiled. "I could just see you laying awake in bed tonight thinking about them. Busy brain, too much caffeine..."
"Well it is pretty suspenseful," Willow said, settling back and curling up with her dog. "I mean, war-time Paris. That's pretty romantic and dangerous."
Tara bobbed her head. "But Jacque and Lar were professionals, so it was mostly just a mission."
"Right," the redhead said, nodding her head. A small smile turned the corner of her lips. God, how she loved this woman.
"So, Jacque swam to Paris and met Lar, who had come by rail disguised as a German kangaroo," Tara said, diving back into the tale. "They met at their previously arranged destination, spot, in the dead of the night, just outside of the city."
"Did they get caught?" Willow blurted. "Sorry, jumping the gun. Did they, though?"
Tara grinned. "Do you want me to just tell you the end?" She asked, amused.
"No, no, it's fine. I'm quiet. This is me, quietly listening." She smiled innocently. "See? All quiet."
"Okay," the blonde chuckled. "So, they met in the dead of the night. They hid under the bridge, as German troops went overhead."
"They're gonna get caught," Willow muttered.
Tara smiled and shook her head. "They wired the bridge, pausing every few hours for smokes and baguettes, even though neither one smoked, or ate bread."
"Very, 'When in Rome,'" Willow said. "Only, 'Paris'."
Tara nodded. "Just before dawn, the wiring was done and the bridge was ready to blow."
"And?"
"They blew it up."
There was a slight pause. "That's it?" Willow said, deflating a bit.
Tara shrugged. "That's how it happened. Now, in the Hollywood version, Lar gets captured before they can meet, and Jacque and Polly rescue him. Then they blow the bridge."
"Polly?" Willow asked, confused.
"The porpoise, Jacque's feisty one-time high school sweetheart that he reunited with for the mission."
Willow sighed and then grumbled, "Okay, next time I get the Hollywood story."
"Deal," Tara said with a wide grin. Willow smiled and then glanced at the clock. She grudgingly frowned as she looked back to her roommate.
"I should–"
"Yeah," Tara nodded as she took in the time as well. She scooted off the bed and took a step back toward the door. "I should, get to bed."
"Thank you though, for the story," the redhead said, gesturing with clasped hands as she stood and moved back toward her chair. Tara started to back away to the door and Willow tried to think of a way to make her stop, something, anything that would give her an excuse to still the blonde so she could move forward and embrace the girl, hold her and silently thank her for the wonderful day. But there was nothing that she could say that didn't seem weird, or awkward, so she just watched Tara back away.
"No problem," the blonde said softly. She wanted to stop, to walk forward even and embrace the redhead, thank her for the day but she worried that with her surging feelings, she might not be able to stop herself from kissing her roommate if she turned toward her. She took the door handle in her hand and began backing out into the dark hallway, slowly closing the door behind her as she went. "Good night."
"Night," Willow said, watching the girl close the door. She sat in her chair and spun to face her computer, a huge grin on her face. She clicked her mouse, and seeing that her process was done, dove back into work.
Tara walked down the hallway, a wide smile on her face. She entered her dark room and went directly to her bedside table, leaning behind it and flipping the switch for her fairy lights. They softly illuminated the room and she smiled. She'd never tire of the way it made her room glow.
She walked over and opened the window, breathing deep, the wet, cold air stinging her lungs. She could smell her neighbors' fires, and it again reminded her of her childhood home. She let the chill seep in her room as she changed for the night.
Once changed she moved back to the window. She briefly thought about leaving it open for the night, but the wind was picking up, sending water into her room and the temperature was dipping below chilly into teeth-chattering territory. She closed the window and climbed into bed. She sighed, her mind swimming like a koi fish in a new pond. How did today happen? Morgan, Jill, Oz, Xander. So much information, so many feelings. She reached over and flicked off the lights, the cover rustling around her as she rolled onto her back. She sighed in the darkness and closed her eyes. She had every intention of picking apart the day, but sleep overtook her quickly, and within a few minutes of pulling the covers to her chin she was fast asleep.
Last edited by
EasierSaid on Sun Mar 07, 2010 1:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
OK, I know, probably not yet.
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