**tommo: I'm reasonably sure I couldn't write about that for four or five pages. Oh, wait ... I can think about it for four or five hours - maybe I could. Huh.
**Autumn: *G* Yes, I know ... the general consensus is to ditch the realism and just get to it ... but that's part of the fun of the vignette series for me - it's challenging. And getting that particular character to do that particular thing in public is probably about as challenging as it gets. Heh .
**Rally: Why, thank you, Rally *G*
**StRaWbErRy: Gosh, thanks - and a novel-y thing (at the behest of my sister and Yuri) is actually one of the things I'm working on that's making vignettes and LD updates take so long. Not that I'm ever going to DO anything with this novel-y thing, but *shrug* it's an interesting challenge.
And Now ... The Vignette ... #20 I'm sure after all y'all have read this one, you should be able to guess what the general subject-matter of Vignette #30 is going to be. Yes, it's a theme.
Series: Vignettes
Number: 20
Title: Best Laid Plans
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.com Spoiler Warning: None
Summary: Tara plans a special evening, but things go a little bit wrong, as they tend to when you most want things to go right.
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters. I do, however, love them, and as they reside in my heart, they belong to me. I'm not making any money off of them, though.
Rating: PG-13
Best Laid Plans
Part 20 of the Vignettes Series
by Sassette
"Honey, I'm home!" Willow called with a wide grin, letting herself into the little apartment and letting out a self-satisfied sigh. She just loved saying that. With a happy little skip in her step, she tossed her laptop on the couch and kicked off her heels, sighing again when her feet hit the carpet.
"Tara? Baby?" Willow called, looking around the apartment, finally noticing the unlit candles scattered around the room. If Willow didn't know better, she'd have guessed that Tara had been planning to surprise her with a romantic evening, but that didn't make sense. She was home a good fifteen minutes later than usual, and if Tara had planned something, the lights would be out and the candles would be lit.
Willow frowned when she didn't hear Tara answer her call, and moved to the kitchen, trying to find her. This wasn't like Tara at all, and her car was in her parking space, and, Willow noted, it looked like Tara had half-started making dinner.
A thousand and three scenarios, each grimmer than the last, raced their way through Willow's brain. "Tara?" she called again, her voice squeaking as she hurried to the bedroom. "Tara, baby?" she called, turning the corner and entering the room, only to see Tara curled up in the center of the bed, crumpled tissues all around.
An overwhelming relief crashed over her as Willow carefully tip-toed into the room.
"Huh? Wha-?" Tara muttered, her eyes drifting open and peering at Willow. "I hab a cold," Tara said miserably, her eyes unnaturally bright and her nose all red and raw-looking.
"Awww, poor baby," Willow said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and gathering up the tissues and tossing them into the waste basket. Tara sounded so congested and unhappy, and she looked so awful and miserable, Willow felt her heart give a little lurch. Her hands reached out of their own accord, taking Tara's hand and stroking her fingers, comforting them both with the quiet touch.
"Why are you here?" Tara asked softly, her voice raspy. "You're hobe early."
"No, it's after six," Willow said softly, brushing a strand of hair off of Tara's face and resting the back of her hand against Tara's forehead. "You have a little fever, baby. Why don't -"
"Abder six?" Tara asked, her eyes widening as she tried to sit up. "Bud id can'd be!"
"Tara, just relax," Willow instructed gently. "Lie back down and get some sleep. Did you take any medicine? I'll go get you some," she said, standing up to hustle off to get her baby some bad-tasting stuff that would make her feel better.
"No," Tara said, her hand catching Willow's shirt and tucking her back. "I hab do ged up," she groaned out.
"Absolutely not," Willow said, shaking her head. "You have to rest and get better. I hate it when you're sick," she said softly, leaning in and kissing Tara lightly on the forehead. "But I love taking care of you, so you just stay right where you are."
"Bud you don'd undersdand," Tara said, her eyes filling up with tears of frustration. "I really hab do ged up."
"Baby, I know," Willow said softly, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You were planning a special dinner. We can do it another night. Right now I just need my girl to get better."
"You're so good do be," Tara said, sniffling piteously. "Bud I need do ged by -"
"Get your what? 'Cuz I'll go get it," Willow said quickly. "I'm all Fetch And Carry Girl. In fact, I'm Fetch And Carry And Pour Water And Other Vital Fluids Into Glasses And Heat Up Soup Girl. Or, oh - oh! I'm Fetch And Carry And Pour Water And Other Vital Fluids Into Glasses And Heat Up Soup And Give Needed 'Get Better' Snugglies And Read Out Loud To You Or Do Whatever Else You Need Girl!"
"I need by briebcase," Tara said with a sigh, her headache, scratchy throat and runny nose making her truly miserable, just when she had so badly wanted everything to be perfect tonight.
"Honey, I don't think you should be working right now - a briefcase is like a portable office, and you should be resting with the sleepies and the medicines and the soups. Soups, yes. Briefcase, no," Willow said, shaking her head.
"I wand by briebcase!" Tara said as loudly as she could manage, a pouty cross look on her face, her eyes flashing with irritation. Her expression softened at Willow's wide-eyed expression, realizing she had probably snapped a bit more than she had meant to. "I'b sorry. I just wand by briebcase. Blease?" she said, looking at Willow with a truly pitiful expression.
"Yeah, okay," Willow said with a little nod. "I'll just, umm ... go get your briefcase. And some Comtrex. Comtrex makes everything better."
With that, Willow scooted out of the room, leaving Tara in the middle of the bed, looking around the darkened room with a puzzled and helpless look on her face.
How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? She had felt just a tad under the weather that morning, but she had adamantly refused to get sick. Willow hadn't known she had arranged to work a half day, or that she had spent the afternoon puttering around the apartment, cleaning and preparing for a very special evening.
She had only meant to take a little nap, but apparently, three hours later, she had woken up to find Willow home already and all her preparations going to waste, as she was too sick to do anything about it.
It wasn't fair, Tara decided inwardly, feeling like her head was full of cotton. Between the cold, and her nerves, and the surprises she had been planning, she felt this bizarre mixture of relief and anger that everything had been ruined.
"Here you go, baby," Willow said, walking into the room, a glass of water and Tara's briefcase in her hands. She set the briefcase on the nightstand, handing over the glass of water and some Comtrex.
Tara held the pill in one hand and the glass of water in the other, the clear lines of the objects blurring as tears stung her eyes.
"Baby? Are you okay?" Willow asked, seeing Tara's tears and quickly sitting at her side again. "Are you hurting? Do you want to go see a doctor? 'Cuz we can go right now, or I'll go find a doctor and bring 'em back, or -"
"Bo, I'b fibe," Tara said, touching Willow's arm softly and stopping her words. "I jusd ... I wabded tobighd do be special," she said with a little sigh, shaking her head at the garbled mess her words were.
"Then it will be special," Willow said with a nod, rushing out of the room and leaving Tara again. With a watery-eyed look at the empty doorway, Tara sighed, drinking some water and swallowing the pill Willow had brought her. She let her eyes drift closed, resting as strange sounds filtered into her consciousness. Her brow furrowed as she rested, trying to identify the noises and figure out what Willow was doing, but her cotton-filled brain refused to cooperate and she could not figure out what Willow was up to.
Tara drifted for long moments - she wasn't sure how long - only to rouse herself back into wakefulness when she sensed the presence of another person in the room.
"Willow?" she asked groggily, her eyes blinking open.
"Here, baby," Willow said, helping Tara to sit up, then placing a tray on her lap. Two bowls of gently steaming soup, a little stack of crackers and a two glasses of orange juice placed neatly. "Yummy foodstuffs, and calcium-enriched juice of the orangey variety, chock full of vitamin C and other important healthy things."
Tara laughed a little as a new well of tears sprang up in her eyes. It had been so important to her that the evening be romantic and perfect, yet, suddenly, it was. Nothing had gone as she had planned, and yet everything was so very sweet - Willow was so sweet. Maybe, just maybe, she could go through with her plans anyway
Willow then set one of the candles she had retrieved from the living room and placed it on the nightstand, lighting it deftly, a look of mild surprise crossing her face when the flame shot up.
"Id's exdra-blabey," Tara said softly, looking at the candle, then switching her gaze to Willow, an adoring look on her face.
"Oh? Oh!" Willow said, her eyes going wide as her mind immediately supplied her with today's date. Exactly two years ago, there had been a power outage at UC Sunnydale, and Willow had gone to Tara's room, an extra-flamey candle in hand. "Oh, baby," Willow said, a small smile playing about her lips, a delighted look lighting up her eyes. "You were going to surprise me with a special evening for that? That's so sweet," she said, leaning in and kissing Tara softly on the cheek.
Tara wiggled a little in her seat, a happy look on her face as she looked at her soup. "Joib be?" Tara asked, a shy look crossing her face. Willow nodded eagerly, crawling onto the bed. Tara sat up against the headboard, her legs tucked underneath her, and Willow across from her. "Ooooh! Alphabed soup," Tara said, picking up her spoon when Willow was comfortably seated and noting the letters swimming around in the broth.
"I know it's supposed to be chicken-noodley," Willow said with a shrug, "'cuz it's all traditional and expected, but I knew the alphabet soup was your favorite and all, so I just kind of wanted you to have something that would make you happy, y'know?"
"You bake be happy," Tara said with a little sigh, scowling as once again her words came out sounding like ... well, sounding like she had a head cold. That just wouldn't do.
"I, umm, I hope this is okay," Willow said uncertainly, gesturing to the soup and the crackers. She mentally kicked herself for not remembering the sort-of anniversary that tonight entailed, and not picking up flowers or something. They would certainly come in handy right about now.
"It's wonderbul," Tara assured her with a smile. "You're wonderbul."
"I think you're pretty wonderful, too," Willow said shyly, feeling absurdly like this was a first date, even though they were sitting on the bed in the bedroom they had shared for over six months, after moving out of Buffy's house where they had >also< shared a bed.
They lapsed into silence, just enjoying the company, as Tara's mind raced. This, Tara decided, really sucked. Not the food, or Willow, but the whole situation where she couldn't talk without sounding silly. She didn't want to be silly tonight.
Unfortunately, that just wouldn't be possible. In a way, she felt like she had a stutter all over again - her inability to express herself or to make sense making her want to jump around on the bed and scream. Even a simple 'I love you' would come out as 'I lub you.'
Tara's eyes narrowed as she looked down at her soup, dunking the noodley letters with a cracker repeatedly. Slowly, pushing it's way through her cotton-brain, an idea formed - an idea that just might salvage her plans for the evening.
"Baby?" Tara asked softly, immediately gaining Willow's undivided attention. "Could I ged sobe bore wader?" she asked, feeling absurdly guilty for taking advantage of Willow's need to help her and effectively sending her out of the room.
Willow nodded eagerly, putting down her spoon and getting off the bed. "Sure - I'll be right back, okay?"
Tara just nodded in response, and waiting for Willow to disappear around the corner. As quickly as her tired body could move, she popped open her briefcase, pulling out a sheaf of papers and the present she had spent so much time picking out.
She heard the water running, and knew Willow would return soon, and so she quickly put her briefcase away, then waved her hand over Willow's soup, muttering a few words under her breath, causing a warm golden glow to encase the bowl for a few moments, then fade. Happy memories washed over her as she completed the spell - it was silly, but it had been a spelling game her mother had played with her when she was little and learning to read, and she had taught it to Willow one day on a whim.
"Here you go, baby," Willow said, handing over the water, then clambering back to her spot.
"Thank you," Tara said gratefully, taking a deep gulp of the water and waiting. There was really no backing out now, and a sudden case of nerves set her heart to racing.
"Huh ... that's odd," Willow said, looking down at her soup and frowning. "The little letters are swimming around all by themselves. Spelling practice?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.
"Oh?" Tara said as innocently as she could muster.
"Yeah," Willow said softly. "If they end up spelling out 'Surrender Dorothy,' we're leaving," she said, looking up at Tara for a moment, then back at her soup.
Tara giggled, the tension inside her eased at Willow's joke.
Willow watched, laughing as the letters zoomed around the bowl, expecting them to coalesce into a readable message any moment now. She sighed happily, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have someone like Tara in her life - who would think to get all magicky with alphabet soup in order to leave a schmoopy message.
"So what's it going to say?" Willow finally asked impatiently, hopping up and down a little on the bed. "'I love you'? ... or maybe ... 'Gee, Willow, you're so darn sexy, if I didn't have this cold I'd be doing very naughty things with you right now'?"
Tara just shook her head, biting her lower lip, and pointing at the soup, indicating that Willow should wait and see.
"Oh, fine," Willow mock grumbled, resting on elbow on her knee and propping her chin up on her hand, looking at her soup. "Y'know, I'm reasonably sure most of the people I know would think I was crazy to be staring at my soup like this," she complained, though her eyes twinkled as she waited impatiently for her surprise.
"Tara?" Willow asked, her eyes wide and her voice shaky. She quickly looked up at Tara, then back down at the words 'Marry Me' written in little noodley letters. "Umm ... did you just ... ?" Willow asked, totally floored. About a million possibilities - from an 'I love you' to a 12-page dissertation on the commonalities of monster myths in disparate cultures - for what was going to be written in her soup had crossed her mind, but somehow, this hadn't been one of them.
When Willow looked up to get an answer to her question, Tara nodded briefly, putting a ring box down gently on the tray between them, and opening it to show Willow the ring inside.
"Oh, God ... Tara," Willow breathed, looking from the ring to Tara's face. Red-rimmed eyes, runny nose, tangled hair and all, Willow thought she had never seen anything as breathtakingly beautiful as Tara in this moment. "Yes," she said, a broad grin crossing her face. "Absolutely, totally, completely, and unequivocally yes."
A sense of relief and joy poured over Tara, and suddenly, she felt as though all the little aches and pains were gone, because nothing in the whole world existed for her except the look on Willow's face and the fact that she had said 'yes'.
"I lub you," Tara said, her own grin taking over her features.
"I lub you, too," Willow said with a thrilled laugh, leaning over the tray and planting a kiss heartfelt kiss on Tara's lips, cold be damned.
Germs didn't stand a chance against Willow Rosenberg.
by pikescoob » Sun Jun 23, 2002 9:59 am 
chica you brilliant thing, you! You've coined a new term: Sass-fic 
FAWN