Short Stuff: Birthday Planning (22 Jan 2014)

[BeMyDeputy]

Hey everyone!
Now that I’m done with my daily drabbles, I feel like there’s something in my life that’s missing. Writing random things, I think. (For the "where the hell is my Queen of Hearts" crowd, I swear I haven't forgotten about it. It's just coming very slowly.)

So now I’m going to try posting shorts on a a regular basis. Saturdays, maybe? That didn't happen. Let's try for "at all" for now, and work on "regular."

While some of the stories will be completely independent, some will occur in the same universe. Canon is an obvious description for a setting, but there will be more.

Settings (I'll list more as they come up):
Middle Years: I have upcoming project, AYLD, that takes place in two timelines, set over twenty years apart. Many things happen in the middle. Middle Years stories are from this space. These stories contain spoilers for AYLD.

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Rating: PG-13 for potentially emotionally disturbing content
Feedback: I am genuinely interested in both positive and negative feedback, up to and including people tearing this to pieces.
Copyright Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. Any content not falling under any other party's copyright is copyright me.
Setting: Middle Years
Acknowledgments: Thanks to dlline, for being awesome and beta-ing random things I throw at her, even when I’m supposed to be writing other things instead. Thanks to wayland and Ariel for being great alpha readers for me.

Warning: Though there is nothing violent or sexually graphic about this story, it contains material people may consider disturbing or offensive. I hate to spoil story elements in the disclaimer, but I want to be very clear: this story addresses Tara's participation in the assisted suicide of her mother. You have been warned.

Vocabulary: Shoah: Holocaust. Halakha: Jewish Law


Wedding Nights
We had two wedding nights.

The first, I imagine, was a lot like a lot of other couples': a big reception, great food, tons of friends and family, lots of dancing, all followed by finally staggering into our hotel room far too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed and sleep.

But this isn't the story of that night.

Our second wedding night was in 2009, when the state of Iowa showed off its progressive colors by legalizing same-sex marriage. We'd already done the traditional huge party thing, so it was a much quieter affair. Local friends and family joined us at Inis Grove Park. First we signed pretty pieces of paper for Dad's Rabbi, and then we had a big barbeque. Joshua was five at the time, and he spent the night convincing various aunts and uncles to push him and his friends on the swings.

It was soon to become one of the most difficult nights of my life.

I finally got Joshua to bed around ten o'clock, then joined Tara in the bedroom, ready to consummate the hell out of my now legally-recognized marriage. When I entered the room, Tara was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing the t-shirt and jeans she'd worn to the barbeque.

“Hey, baby,” I said, not yet noticing how stiffly she sat or that she seemed to be staring intently at her hands. “Your ass looks hot in those jeans and all, but I was kind of hoping to find you in your robe. Or, you know, your birthday suit.” I shrugged. “I'm easy.” I smiled at the deliberate innuendo, eager to get on with my plans for the evening. Plans, I suddenly realized, that should probably have involved making Xander host a sleep-over. Rats.

“About Joshua . . . .” she said softly. I finally noticed how upset she looked, and I cringed, expecting the lecture I'd been anticipating for hours.

“Look, I'm sorry about giving him that third piece of cake, okay? How was I supposed to know that Buffy had already spoiled him by giving him a super-secret second piece?” I joined her on the edge of the bed, and put my arm around her waist. “But I got him to bed, didn't I? So, no harm, no foul. Right?” I offered up my best winning smile before realizing it was wasted on the back of her head, where, despite Joshua's adamant belief, she did not have a second pair of eyes.

She shook her head slowly, and I tensed, worried she was still mad. Technically, I wasn't supposed to give him a super-secret second piece any more than Buffy was. But I was confused; this was our wedding night. How much cake Joshua got his eager little hands on wasn't a big enough deal to waste the night bantering about it, let alone actually arguing. “This isn't about that.” Even in a whisper, I knew that tone. Something was actually wrong.

“Sweetie, what's the matter?” As far as I knew, the day had gone perfectly, aside from our “sneaky child” fiasco. Whatever had managed to bother Tara this much, on this day . . . I was ready to clobber it.

She looked up at me then, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes red. “I killed my mother.”

I stared at her, taken aback by the haunted look in her eyes and the pleading of her voice. I was shocked (of course), but I still had a handle on the fact that she needed me. As I pulled her into a tight hug, I shook my head: at first to clear it, but then to disagree. “No, Tara. It wasn't your fault. She was afraid of the dementia. It wasn't anything you did.”

Tara pulled away from me then, just enough to make eye contact. She shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “Listen to me. I killed my mother.” Her voice was steady, but new rivers of tears spilled out of her eyes. I didn’t care how strongly she disagreed. It wasn’t true.

“Baby, no, it was suicide.”

“It was ruled a suicide.”

Once again, I could only stare at her. My understanding of Tara, my Tara, hell, my wife (twice over now, thank you very much), battled with my comprehension of English. It didn't make any sense. My brain just kept returning a “DIV/0” error. “What?” I eeked out, my voice filled with the confusion I felt.

Tears continued to stream from her eyes, and her voice began to shake, but she looked me in the eye as she explained what part of me already knew. “They ruled it a suicide, but it was me. I turned the car on. I shut the garage door. I . . . I . . .” her head fell onto my shoulder as she began to shake, “. . . I even buckled her into her seat so she wouldn’t flail and hurt herself.” She began to sob uncontrollably then, and her arms clasped tightly around my waist. I held her. It was all I could do. I held her and rocked her and kissed her hair. It wasn't until I tasted salt in her hair that I realized I was crying, too.

11 years. 11 years she'd held onto this.

Though we had often talked about May: about her life, her illness, and the aftermath of her death, Tara never spoke about the actual event. The before I knew well. The before Tara made me learn in excruciating detail, or she wouldn't have said “I do” once, let alone twice. As we sat and rocked and cried together, I wracked my brain for every detail I knew about her mother's death. Early on, she simply told me that her mother had passed about a year before we started our freshman year. It wasn't until the fifth anniversary of May's death that I learned more.

Tara was quiet as we entered the apartment that afternoon; though, she was usually quiet when we got back from the graveyard. Without a word, she walked to her filing cabinet in the bedroom, and pulled out a file folder I'd never seen simply labeled “Mom” in large letters. By then she had already shown me the papers from May's illness as part of my education in the horror of those final years; that documentation was kept elsewhere.

She placed it gently on the desk, then looked from it to me and back to it. Her tears began again, but she just waved me toward the desk as she left the room. I wanted to follow her, to keep her company in her misery. That was my job on these anniversaries. But it was clear she wanted me to look through the folder. I promised myself I would make it quick, so I could join her promptly.

The papers smelled old and dusty, like she hadn't looked at the file in years. It was there, from newspaper clippings and police reports, that I learned the only information I knew about the actual death itself. About the car in the garage, about the letter in her safe deposit box. Tara even had a copy of the letter; it clearly laid out that should she become ill (for this was years before testing was possible), she planned to use the ends of lucidness to spare her family the pain of watching the illness play out. To spare her family what she had been through growing up.

I began to cry when I noticed the letter was dated the day Tara was born.

I didn’t know what to think. I’d been taught that suicide was wrong. That human life was to be preserved. That even in the face of pain and suffering, it was wrong to take your own life. Heck, pikuach nefesh explicitly allows for the breaking of most commandments in order to save a life, including your own. More than allows. Demands.

But at the same time, I knew how bad it was. Not just for Tara’s family, but for May herself. Living with Huntington’s wasn’t living. Not really. Loss of control of your body? Flashes of sanity long enough to be torturous?

Then again, could it compare with the Shoah?

I shook my head, a jumble of confusion, discomfort, and sadness within me. I had to put myself together for Tara. Right or wrong, it was heartbreaking. Right or wrong, I understood what May had done. Tara didn’t show me these papers so I could judge. She showed me so I would know.

It was clear she had gone to great lengths to collect every piece of paper that talked about the event and keep them here. Knowing her, I guessed physically isolating them was part of her boxing up what had happened. That her mother died, she could talk about. What it did to her, she could talk about. But how it happened she’d put away. I doubted she would want to talk about it, even now. I carefully put all the papers away and returned the file to the cabinet so she wouldn't have to deal with it again. I didn't know if I should wash my face before I went to find her. Would it be better to be more composed, or to show that it had moved me to tears?

As I left the bedroom, still unsure, I could hear Tara crying in the living room. My decision was made for me: I joined her instantly. I sat next to her on our crappy, dumpster-found couch (though it wore the beautiful cover she'd made for it) and held her. She looked up at me, despair in her eyes. “It was a relief,” she told me before she buried her head in my chest and sobbed.

Though I was full of questions (one in particular burned especially brightly in my mind), I held my tongue. Tara, who was so often the source of my strength, needed me. Not questions. Not Halakha. Me. So we sat. We sat and we cried as the clock ticked away, indifferent to our sorrow.

I think I fell asleep. The visit to May's grave had been exhausting in it of itself. Then this. All I know for certain is that when I looked up, it was dark. The sun sets late in July. When I looked back down I saw Tara fast asleep, still holding on to me for dear life.

“Hey sweetie,” I whispered, “it's late.”

She mumbled sleepily into my chest, but didn't move.

“Come on, Tara. You at least need some water, or you'll wake up all hung over.”

She looked up at me then, clearly confused: she’d given up the heavy drinking years earlier. It took a moment before it dawned on her that I meant she was dehydrated from crying. I saw the realization hit her eyes then watched her head fall. I felt her take a deep breath before she raised it again, the strength back in her eyes, and nodded.

We got ready for bed, forgoing dinner entirely. I did make sure we each drank a good bit of water. I helped her with her pajamas and got her settled into bed. I could tell she was still exhausted, but she watched me as I changed and joined her.

“Do you have any questions?” My sweet Tara. She knew me so well.

“Just one. I mean, just one that matters.” I faltered, unable to bring myself to say the words.

“Go ahead.” She was tired, but her strength was back. It was safe to lean on her again.

“Do . . . I mean, do you . . . ?” I couldn't say any more. Couldn't bear to make the thought real. Not for her.

How do you ask the woman you love if she plans to kill herself?

“I don't know.” There was a haunted look in her eyes and a fearful look on her face that I’d never seen her wear when she discussed her fate. I held her close and she fell swiftly to sleep.

I lay awake all night holding her, afraid to let her go.

It may have been my second wedding night, but it felt like that night all over again.

Her sobbing eventually subsided. I knew she’d brought it up for a reason, though I didn’t understand what it was. All I knew was that she’d never talked about it before, and this change was important. “Do you, do you want to tell me what happened?” I tentatively asked. This was the only time she’d ever spoken of her mother’s death since the first.

Tara nodded then and moved to look at me again. God, she looked even worse than before.

“Things were bad then. Really bad. You know that. Mom . . . she was lucid less and less. But we all knew . . . I mean, we always had known what she wanted. But, her muscle control was gone. She couldn't do it. We didn't know what to do.

“One day, one of her good days . . . after dinner, she . . . .” Tara took a deep breath. “She asked us for help.”

“Oh my God.” I kissed her forehead gently. “I'm so sorry.” I tried to imagine what it would be like, to have someone you love ask for that kind of help. For Tara to ask me for that kind of help. But I couldn’t. It hurt too much to even try.

“We were so tired by then. So drained. But . . . we were still talking about ending Mom's life.

“We didn't really discuss whether we would do it. Of course we would. We didn't want her to hurt anymore. She'd fought a long time, you know? Dad wasn't even surprised. He'd thought it might play out like that. So we mostly had a practical discussion.”

I pulled her closer and closer. I probably squeezed too hard. I saw Tara hurting in front of me and felt the pain radiate from her into me. There was a squeezing pressure in my chest that felt like my heart was on fire every time I tried to take a breath. It made me fear for our future. For my family's future. I had known it would be bad. But this . . . .

“Since Mom couldn't do it, that left the three of us. But we were afraid. Not so much of the thing itself. We were hurting too bad to fear it.” She shook her head. “No, they . . . I can’t speak for them. I mean, I was. But, all of us were afraid of what would happen afterwards. What if the police found out? What would happen?”

I nodded, suddenly seeing how it had ended up on Tara.

“I mean, we couldn't lose Dad. If they took him away . . . we would have lost the farm. Donnie . . . he spent a lot of evenings with us because of Mom, but he was married. He had a baby on the way. “That left me.”

We both started to cry again. I imagined her, only seventeen, shouldering this very adult burden. There were no photographs from that year of her life, so all I could do was picture of the girl I met my first day of college, not even fourteen months after it had happened. I remembered her telling me once she looked completely different then, but I still could only conjure up the person I knew.

“I know it was the right thing,” she said into my shoulder. “She thanked me so many times.” She shook her head. “But I still . . . .” Tara sat back and grabbed my shoulders fiercely as she looked back up me, her eyes wide with fear. “Don't let it be Joshua. Whatever happens, however things play out, not Joshua. Do whatever it takes so it isn't him.”

Even in the face of Tara's confession, I couldn’t bear to think of her future like that. “No, baby. It won't come to that.”

“Promise me.”

“I . . . .”

“Willow, I know you don’t like assisted suicide. But you have to promise me. If that’s what it comes to, even if it’s somehow down to you or him, promise me it won’t be him.”

It felt so raw and naked laid out like that. Unmasked from the hopes for medical advancement. It was bleak moments like this that taught me just how much I loved her. Tears rained onto my lap as I nodded.

“I promise.”

Once more, we fell into bed on our wedding night, too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

[wayland]

Hi Kate,

I’m pleased you posted this. I love to read sweet, romantic stories, and I enjoy the escapism of the board, but I also like to read something a little more difficult.

I’m impressed by the way you’ve given us a huge amount of backstory here with an economy of words.

For example, from one little detail, we know how Buffy remains a close friend and part of their lives. (Nobody risks giving a child secret pieces of cake unless they know the parents very well. Or they’re dumb.)

The wedding ceremony is conducted by Willow’s dad’s rabbi, so we know that Willow is not practising herself. She sounds dismissive, ‘pretty pieces of paper’, but then, later, it becomes obvious how much she has been influenced by her religious upbringing. I think real people are contradictory like that.

I like the way, in just one scene, Willow switches roles completely. At first, she’s the smartarse flirt, the ‘irresponsible’ parent, then she becomes a deeply serious adult, considering the implications of Jewish law. And both feel like Willow.

Tara and Willow are convincing as a long-term couple. They have a dynamic, the kind of thing outsiders see, ‘It was safe to lean on her again.’ But that isn’t the whole story. Their roles, in private, can be very different. They know each other well, but not unrealistically so. After almost five years, Willow hesitates, unsure how to comfort her partner.

I’m intrigued by this setting you have created for Willow and Tara and by the complex issues you are exploring. I look forward to reading more.

[taralicious]

Our second wedding night was in 2009, when the state of Iowa showed off its progressive colors by legalizing same-sex marriage.

As a life-long Iowan, I have never been prouder of this state than when the Iowa Supreme Court made this historic and common-sense decision to grant basic human rights of dignity and self-respect to all Iowans and not even the backsliding of repugnant Evangelical crazies who exploited the rules of law to punish the three judges who had the foresight to embrace the future can diminish my pride in being the Midwestern bastion of tolerance and love for all people.
In the same theme of dignity and self-respect, this story was beautifully written and heartfelt in its exploration of the moral and ethical quandaries which surround the debate over end-of-life care; another issue in which people have a tendency to impose their religious beliefs onto in order to come to terms with what they are being asked to do.
Personally, I believe we make our own choices in this life and it is just mean to have to watch a loved one suffer so I would have no qualms about helping that person to a more peaceful state of living.
Tara is even a stronger person than she was in my estimation before reading this story.

[JustSkipIt]

Hey Katie - I think this is the story you sent me and I didn't read. If so, I still won't be reading it (particularly at this time of year). I'm glad you posted it and if I'm wrong, text me to read it. Otherwise, fantastic that you're writing (even if I want a QoH update!).

[DaddyCatALSO]

Very moving, and absolutely believeable -"Don't let it be Joshua"- exactly what Tara would want in these circumstances. And yes,a big fun family celeberation is *exactly* when thoughts like this tend to surface.
And I believe Huntingdon's can skip a generation (Several such diseases can, not 100% sure;) so even if Tara is alright they still might have the unthinkable ahead of them.

I like how you're seeing a consistent universe for your vision of their lives, and also how you decided to have them take off for a location where they can make their status fully legal.

[BeMyDeputy]

@wayland: First, thanks so much for reading and critiquing “Wedding Nights” in its infancy. I think it is possibly my favorite sample of my writing, and it wouldn’t be so good if I hadn’t had so many people willing to tell me what I did wrong.

I also like to read something a little more difficult.

Me too. It’s strange; things like mystical evil destroy the whole world is so par for the course in these parts, but the experience of dealing with one person’s death can just be so different.

huge amount of backstory here with an economy of words.

I smiled when I saw this, because “Wedding Nights” is in many ways a crib sheet for me. Not only are there a lot of details about the AYLD world, but it’s a reminder of just how broken Tara is when she starts college—which, coincidently, is when that story starts.

People are dynamic, complicated, and contradictory. This makes them awesome. People’s roles in relation to each other change all the time. This too makes them awesome. I love the differences in people’s perceptions of each other situations, as well as how people act to each other as compared to how they act in a larger group. They should act differently in private. Willow’s understanding of Tara should be different than Tara’s understanding of Tara and vice versa. The non-flashbacky bit of “Wedding Nights” is when they’ve known each other for ten years: that’s long enough for a pretty solid understanding, but not perfect; for the flashback, it’s even less solid.

@taralicious:
Iowa rules*. It’s so easy to forget when all the news is about the super-right Iowans. I caucused in 2000 and 2004, and I remind people all the time just how left the left can be in Iowa, too. I was so sad to hear that those judges lost their seats, and that people wanted the remaining judges to resign.

In the same theme of dignity and self-respect, this story was beautifully written and heartfelt in its exploration of the moral and ethical quandaries which surround the debate over end-of-life care.

Thank you. End of life issues are always hard, and then with something like Huntington’s . . . it’s terrible. I wanted this to be about a real thing, about the directions people get pulled in when faced with something like this, but without being preachy from either side.

*The weather sucks.

@JustSkipIt:
I was sorry to make the first post here something I knew, well, wasn’t for you, but on the other hand, it was a) done, and b) one of the best things I’ve written, I think. I appreciated that you took the time to comment anyways. I seemed to have scared most people away with my giant “don’t read this” warning. I think you’ll find “Blackout” much more agreeable.

@DaddyCatALSO:
I’m glad you found this so realistic. As part of my graduate degree in biology, I had to take a section on bioethics. So I’ve had a chance to spend a lot of time thinking about the interaction of morals, law, and really horrible biological diseases.

Speaking of which, Huntington’s cannot skip a generation. It is a dominant autosomal trait: if you have the gene, you have the disease. Period. I’m not sure if by problems down the line you were referring to Joshua; while Tara is his birth mom, he is genetically Willow’s son for that very reason.

Interestingly, you’re the only one who touched on why this came up when it did. Two things brought it up. First she was thinking about her mom in general, because Tara wished that May could have been at her wedding. But what made Tara tell her now, as opposed similar events, like when they were first married or when Joshua was born, is that Tara is still afraid of legal fallout from what happened. Now that they’re legally married, Willow can’t be compelled to testify against her.

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Rating: PG
Feedback: I am genuinely interested in both positive and negative feedback, up to and including people tearing this to pieces.
Copyright Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. Any content not falling under any other party's copyright is copyright me.
Setting: Non-specific; not canon
Acknowledgments: Thanks to wayland, who jumped in and betaed this for me. She has also been kind enough to email me with where I made typos I've made since the last draft she saw. Thoughts out to dlline’s dad. I hope he feels better soon.


Blackout
“Oh, come on, Willow. That's crap and you know it.”

“I know no such thing. It's perfectly sound. You haven't disputed a single facet of the argument, just said the conclusion 'feels wrong.' If you ask me, that's what's crap.”

“Well, if you would actually read--”

“So help me Tara, if you name another Greek philosopher, I will be forced to hurt you.” Tara watched Willow's eyes dart around until suddenly her hand shot out, which in turn made Tara jump. At least, until she saw what Willow had grabbed. A faux menacing look on her face, Willow raised a pillow aloft and pointed at it insistently with her unoccupied hand. “See? I'm armed and everything.”

“Am I supposed to be scared? Because sweetie . . . the pillow isn't helping.”

Willow scowled. “Do you doubt the efficacy of my carefully selected arsenal?”

Tara raised her arms in surrender and shook her head. “No, of course not.” She waited only a second before continuing, “Anyway, if you would just read Plato--” A flurry of soft strikes and Willow's shriek cut Tara off. Between the blows and her ensuing laughter, Tara fell backwards onto the bed. Willow quickly tossed the pillow off to the side and followed after Tara and gently slid on top of her.

“Baby, why you gotta make me hurt you?” The old joke only made Tara laugh even harder, and Willow soon joined in the giggling. For several minutes, every time Tara managed to stop, one look at Willow would send her back over the edge and she burst into laughter. Finally, the need to catch her breath took over, and Tara cuddled into Willow's comforting warmth.

“You're so adorable when you're flustered, you know that?”

Willow raised her head from Tara's shoulder only enough to look suspiciously at her. “You know, stuff like that makes me think you provoke me on purpose.” Tara shot her a very guilty 'who, me?' look, and Willow stuck out her tongue.

“If that's an offer, I accept.” Tara slid her hands into the back pockets of Willow's jeans and squeezed as she hooked a leg around one of Willow's. “I do seem to have ended up with this sexy chick on top of me.”

“Flattery will get you naked and screaming.”

“Well, in that case . . . .” Tara shut her eyes and squirmed in delight as Willow began to trail kisses down Tara's neck and towards her breastbone. “In that case, I have the most amazing, brilliant, funny, sexy girlfriend who knows just how to touch me to make me fall to pieces . . . who has suddenly stopped kissing me.” Tara waited. “Yep. She's still not kissing me.”

“The power just went out.”

“What?”

“Open your eyes, doofus. The power just went out.” Despite the instruction, Tara left her eyes firmly closed, but she could feel Willow getting up off the bed.

“Okay, and this interrupts my awesome 'Tara gets lucky' plan how? It's not like you need to see.”

“I want to know what happened.” Tara heard the window open. “Looks like campus is out, not just the building. At least, what I can see from here.”

“It's a new moon tonight, too.”

“Really?” Willow sounded excited. Really excited.

“Yep, a new moon. It's going to be very dark. I wonder what we can think of to do. Just you and me and a completely dark dorm--” A bright light hit Tara's eyelids and she turned away from the source. Of course. Willow had a flashlight. Great.

“I told you to open your eyes.”

“You promised me naked and screaming.”

Tara felt Willow's hand on her shoulder, and was forcibly rolled onto her back again. At least this time the light wasn't in her eyes. “We can have sex any time. Come on, I want to show you something.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Tara grumbled, though she took Willow's hand and stood up. “What are you going to show me?”

“It's a surprise. Grab the pillows. Oh, and the blankets.” Willow bounced over to her desk with the flashlight, and started rummaging in one of the drawers, humming to herself.

“Wait a second. You're not giving me sex, you're not telling me where I'm going, and you're using me as a pack mule?” In spite of her complaining, Tara proceeded to grab the pillows and blankets. When Willow was excited, it was hard not to go along with her requests, even if they didn't make any sense up front. She didn't actually resent it; it was just part of the game.

“Yep!”

“And what exactly is her majesty going to be doing while I lug all her crap to . . . wherever the hell we're going?”

Willow turned from the desk and held up a bag. “I've got stuff, too. I'm not taking advantage of you.”

“Exactly the problem,” Tara mumbled.

Willow leaned over and kissed Tara on the forehead. “You'll like it, I promise.”

“Worth giving up quality naked time?”

“Worth putting off quality naked time. I promise that when we're done, I'll take you back to my bed and ravish you. Deal?”

Tara let out an overly dramatic sigh. “Deal. You're lucky I love you.”

“Luckiest girl in the world. I know.” Willow nodded towards the door. “Let's go.” Tara followed Willow out of the room, then waited as she diligently locked the door. Tara was silently grateful that few people were in the hallway, as she already felt rather silly carrying all that bedding. She hoped they wouldn't be going very far or through areas where people were likely to congregate.

“Where did you say we were going, again?”

“Nice try, but I seem to remember telling you it was a surprise.”

“Can't blame a girl for trying.”

“Sure I can.” Tara scowled. “I choose not to, though.” Willow pointed down the corridor. “This way.” Tara followed Willow to the staircase and up the stairs, though she didn't really pay attention to how far they had gone. Finally, Willow opened a door.

“Here we are.”

Tara looked around. “The roof? You want to show me the roof?”

Willow shook her head, and the light from the flashlight caught her eyes so they looked like they sparkled. She smiled as she pulled the pillows and blankets from Tara's arms, then tossed the bedding onto the rooftop.

“Willow, we just washed those, and now you're throwing--” Willow cut her off with a gentle kiss. Tara tried to heat up the kiss, but Willow resisted and kept it soft and slow. After several rebutted attempts, Tara let herself relax. They stood like that for several minutes, and everything else, including Tara's confusion over their presence on the roof, faded out of importance.

A hand gently cupped over Tara's eyes, then she felt Willow step back and around behind her and wrap an arm around her waist. Willow gently encouraged Tara's head back onto her shoulder and she complied. Then the hand was gone, and Willow's voice whispered into her ear, “Open your eyes.”

Tara gasped as she opened her eyes: the sky above her contained more stars than she'd ever seen.

“You like?” Willow asked as she tightened her arms around Tara's waist.

“It's . . . amazing. Perfect. Perfectly amazing.” Tara tore her eyes away from the stars and turned to face Willow. “Just like you.”

“I'm glad.” It was too dark to see, even inches away, but Tara could hear the smile in Willow's voice. After a quick squeeze, Willow let Tara go. “One sec. I know I put that bag around here . . . ha!” There was some brief rustling, then a red light clicked on from Willow's hand. In the light, Tara could see the joy in Willow's face as she handed the new flashlight to Tara and began to spread out the blankets.

“So, why red?” Tara asked as she looked back up at the sky.

“Hmm?”

“The flashlight. Why use a red one?”

“Oh, that. See, if we turned the regular one back on, it would ruin our night vision. But red light doesn't do that. So this will let us see around the rooftop and still let us see the faint stars.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. Even though I turned the white one off when we were kissing, your night vision is still adapting. You'll be able to see more and more stars for about the next hour.”

Tara looked at Willow in disbelief: the sky already seemed overfull with stars. “More stars?”

Willow nodded. “More stars. Which is why I wanted to bring the blankets and the pillows, so we could stay up here for long enough. I wanted us to get the full view: no electric lights, no moon. Just the stars.” Willow pointed to the spread out blankets. “Can I interest you in a terribly uncomfortable bed?”

“That depends. Will you join me?”

“That was kind of the point, yes.”

“Then of course.”

Willow took the flashlight from Tara and set it off to the side. They climbed between the blankets and nestled together. For a while, they just looked up at the sky in silence. Though she was staring right at it, Tara couldn't believe how many stars she could see.

Eventually, Willow broke the silence. “I remember some constellations. I used to know a lot more.” She pointed up. “That's the Big Dipper, there. It's part of Ursa Major. If you follow the line defined by the two stars at the end of the bowl like that . . . you come to Polaris, the North Star. Polaris is the last star in the handle of the Little Dipper, which curves around like that. It's an important star, you know. Not just for navigating on the ocean. There was a song about the Big Dipper and Polaris that was used by the Underground Railroad. It was coded instructions for how to get out of Alabama and Mississippi.

“I looked at the stars a lot as a kid,” Willow continued. “I never felt connected to people my age. But at night, I could look up and see the stars, and I felt connected. Like part of something bigger than myself.” Tara turned on her side and looked at Willow. “I mean, take Polaris. Its light traveled over two and a half quadrillion miles over four hundred thirty four years, and now it's part of me. Part of my life. Or take Betelgeuse, over there in Orion. It's so bright that when it explodes, we'll be able to see it in broad daylight. But it's basically twice as far away as Polaris. It's just that bright.”

Willow pointed out more stars and more constellations, telling stories about the science behind each one. Tara went back and forth between looking at the stars and looking at Willow. There was such a sense of awe in Willow's voice, and both delight and wonder painted her face.

“Dammit, I'm forgetting some constellations, I know I am. I used to know all of the ones visible from this latitude.”

“I know some you're forgetting.”

“Really? Show me.”

“You see those three stars there?” Tara pointed. “That's Shadowfax's tail. Over there is his head, and there are his legs.”

“Shadowfax isn't a constellation.”

“It is for me. I didn't care what stories other people told with the stars. I used them to draw pictures of stories I already knew.”

“Like what else?”

“Well, see those over there. That's Bullwinkle.”

“Bullwinkle? Really?”

“Yes. He's getting ready to take a bath. That cluster over there, that's his soap. Oh! Over there, that's the coin from Half Magic.”

“Orion's belt? How do you get a coin out of that? It's a line.”

“The coin is on its edge.” Willow laughed, and Tara turned to face her. “Are you making fun of my constellations?”

“No! They're great. We'll have to print out a star chart so you can draw them all out for me.”

Tara studied Willow for a moment, at the way she was looking at her. Finally, it dawned on her: it was the way Willow had looked when she was going on about feeling connected to the stars. It made Tara dizzy, all that awe and wonder all directed at her. It could only mean one thing.

“You . . . you really love me, don't you?”

Willow blinked, obviously confused. “Well, duh. I thought we settled that a year ago.” It was true. The first declarations of love had been exchanged what felt like ages ago. But this was different. All that time, Tara had never quite believed that Willow had the same depth of feeling that Tara did. Willow was just so incredible and she loved her so much. It felt impossible that anyone could ever feel that way about her. Yes, she believed that Willow loved her. She just didn't believe it was the same type of love that she felt for Willow. Until now.

“No, I know that. Just . . . you really, really love me.”

Willow smiled softly. “Yeah. I really, really do.”

Tara grinned madly, and pulled Willow on top of her. “I'm pretty crazy about you myself.”

“If you want, I can take you back to my room and arrange for that naked screaming I promised you.”

Tara looked up at Willow, then to the stars beyond. “I think . . . I think I'd like to stay here and stargaze more, if that's okay with you.”

“That sounds perfect.”

[JustSkipIt]

Katie - Well I'm months or longer behind on QoH fb as some kind soul so recently snarked at me. Actually, maybe my phone will start dropping our chats anytime you mention my slow fb schedule... Anyway. I'm inspired to actually produce some fb (if not anything else these days).

So the first thing is that I love the way your mind is so wrapped around season 4 and 5 - how you put all these little treasures together by inserting them into cannon but going so far beyond cannon.

I have mixed feelings about the start of the story. On one hand, it's a very cute sort of "everyday" interaction. Ok. Cool. The pillow fight is a nice touch. The fact that Tara is citing Greek philosophers is quite geeky and Tara-ish (or so we think). But during a playful debate, they both say some assertion is "crap?" Do people do that? I generally reserve words like that for ... like shit I really care about, not arguments into which Plato can be brought. I don't know... maybe it's just a thing for me but it feels ... aggressive?

on the other hand

“Flattery will get you naked and screaming.”

Tee hee. Nice line.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Tara grumbled, though she took Willow's hand and stood up. “What are you going to show me?”

- Lol. Tara thinking... "you have got to be kidding me. You're not supposed to prefer some other activity to sex for 5.5 more years. Didn't you read the manual?"

“Here we are.”

Tara looked around. “The roof? You want to show me the roof?”

Why isn't Tara more impressed? We used to sneak up on the dorm roof to look at the stars and loved it. We also used to sunbathe up there which is a totally different experience.

“It's . . . amazing. Perfect. Perfectly amazing.” Tara tore her eyes away from the stars and turned to face Willow. “Just like you.”

Awww. Now it's raining soft kittens in here.

then a red light clicked on from Willow's hand. In the light, Tara could see the joy in Willow's face as she handed the new flashlight to Tara and began to spread out the blankets.

“So, why red?” Tara asked as she looked back up at the sky.

I just bought a headlamp for my morning runs and the reviews of the ones with the redlight (which I got) were awesome. One guy was going on about how he could change his newborn twins' diapers without really waking them up and two other guys were doing equipment checks for their flights in Afghanistan. Geez. I just go for runs at 5:00 am.

Anyway, I love how you get to the constellations conversation but bring us here by hand rather than just throwing a scene at the viewer. Here's how they got on the roof. I also love the contrast of Willow's science and knowledge and Tara's myth and romance and story.

Tara studied Willow for a moment, at the way she was looking at her. Finally, it dawned on her: it was the way Willow had looked when she was going on about feeling connected to the stars. It made Tara dizzy, all that awe and wonder all directed at her. It could only mean one thing.

“You . . . you really love me, don't you?”

What a beautiful thing you've put into this little story. It's not just... hey... pretty stars. It's here we are a year into the relationship and this is the moment that Tara gets how much Willow loves her.

And then I notice you manage to avoid NC-17. It's ok though. It fits very well and is well done so I give you a pass on the lack of NC-17.
y out there . . . .”

[Ariel]

Kate,
This is referring to the first story about their second Wedding Night; I have to agree with Wayland; I love the board’s escapism and I certainly participate in that myself. But I also cherish love in all its steely, painful truth. This is a hard story to read, but very moving and very well written. I am really impressed at your versatility in changing your writing style to one simpler and more visceral.


Here are a few of the many moments that caught my attention:

I held her. It was all I could do. I held her and rocked her and kissed her hair. It wasn't until I tasted salt in her hair that I realized I was crying, too.

Understated, effective – exquisite.

I began to cry when I noticed the letter was dated the day Tara was born.

Again, powerful choice that is simple and effective.

I sat next to her on our crappy, dumpster-found couch (though it wore the beautiful cover she'd made for it) and held her. She looked up at me, despair in her eyes. “It was a relief,” she told me before she buried her head in my chest and sobbed.

I like this detail: poor students dumpster diving for furniture, yet Tara finding a way to make the ugly beautiful.

She looked up at me then, clearly confused: she’d given up the heavy drinking years earlier.

This one was hard to read, mostly because I am the daughter of an alcoholic who was never truly in recovery. It’s so difficult to think of that with Tara, whom I love so much. But I also have to hang on to the idea that she was in recovery and had a lot of sobriety behind her. As a backstory issue, I’m curious when she started, how long it lasted, and if it was largely driven by her participation in her mother’s death.

We both started to cry again. I imagined her, only seventeen, shouldering this very adult burden. There were no photographs from that year of her life, so all I could do was picture of the girl I met my first day of college, not even fourteen months after it had happened. I remembered her telling me once she looked completely different then, but I still could only conjure up the person I knew.

Terribly moving, I picture how she might have looked . . .


Again, carefully thought out and well-crafted, not to mention incredibly touching and thought-provoking.


On to Blackout
I love their banter, their self-confidence and flirtation. It's young and funny and smart. This is a fresh take on the astronomy scene and I LOVE Tara's revelation at the depth of Willow's love. Beautifully done!


Thank you for two very different and very wonderful stories.

Ariel

[wayland]

Hi Kate,

Blackout

I liked this. The playful argument is a nice way to establish that they have been together a while and are comfortable with each other. It’s funny how the use of the word ‘crap’ gives a little jolt. It’s a touch that makes them seem more real to me, as TV characters aren’t generally allowed to voice the phrases we actually use. I don’t know if the word sounds harsher in American, but not censoring their language suggests a sense of ease between them. Also, I particularly like the little domestic detail of the just-washed laundry. Your witty, peeved Tara is fun. That Willow is comfortable enough to say ‘we can have sex anytime’ also suggests a sense of security in their relationship, at least on her side.

And the flashlight – a far preferable way of ‘seeing red’.

The stargazing is all the more romantic for the way it’s spontaneous and Willow has to drag Tara to it, in the face of her (not very convincing), resistance.

It’s a good, well-written romantic vignette, but what gives it substance is Tara’s epiphany. It felt in character, that, despite a year together and all evidence to the contrary, Tara would find it hard to believe that Willow shared her depth of feeling. Showing not telling often makes more convincing writing, and Willow’s actions here allow Tara to believe.

[True_Love]

Hey Kate!

Just read these two litlle gems this week, thought I would leave you some fb to tell you how much I enjoyed them, but first a little harassment. I noticed you said in your opening that you would be updating every Saturday. Hmm, I don't think that has happened. You might want to revise that. Maybe start this up again and update monthly? I know it can be tough with changing plots, beta-ing, and the whole re-write thing. But, monthly seems doable, not to sacrafice and quality QoH writing time. Yes, I'm in that crowd you mentioned above and patiently waiting as you've promised me a Christmas update. So, think about re-starting this. I would love to see your creative force at work again.

Wedding NIghts:
Wow, I wasn't ready for the emotional adventure you were going to take the reader on when I read this. It brought the characters to life and gave them a really difficult scenario to deal with. I found it both heartfelt and heartwrenching to read. I couldn't agree more with the wayland, she captured the delicacies of this story so well. There was one passage that stood out to me more than the others, for the emotional pull I felt.

“Do you have any questions?” My sweet Tara. She knew me so well.

“Just one. I mean, just one that matters.” I faltered, unable to bring myself to say the words.

“Go ahead.” She was tired, but her strength was back. It was safe to lean on her again.

“Do . . . I mean, do you . . . ?” I couldn't say any more. Couldn't bear to make the thought real. Not for her.

How do you ask the woman you love if she plans to kill herself?

“I don't know.” There was a haunted look in her eyes and a fearful look on her face that I’d never seen her wear when she discussed her fate. I held her close and she fell swiftly to sleep.

I lay awake all night holding her, afraid to let her go.

First, yes, we all know Willow's curiousity so well. Second, Tara's strength was back. This is how I always like to think of Tara, in cannon and in fic, strong. Her quiet strength providing strong footing for all those around her.

I'm sure many of us have had times in life where we have either been the Willow or the Tara in this story. I have, although not dealing with a definate fate, an uncertain and potential terminal future can provide heartache and stress on a relationship. Being 'the Tara' I was initally scared, but then I felt I needed to be strong for my wife, who was shaken by how completely helpless she was in the situation. I personally found the story very relatable in this way.

I found this story intelligent, thought proking, and an interesting departure from anything else on the board. Great work!

Blackout:
Thank God by the time I read this you had posted both stories, so I had a nice little pick-me-up after reading Wedding Nights. This was just a fun little romp in the lives of Willow and Tara showing how truly in love with each other they are as well as how much they still have to learn from one another. Once again, I completely agree with the previous reviewers. I find the places that caught my attention the most very similar to JustSkipIt, espeically the "naked and screaming" bit. I loved it and Tara's reaction to Willow's stargazing distraction.

Just a fun, fun read. Very light-hearted and Awwww. Another Great Job!

[BeMyDeputy]

Rating: G/PG
Feedback: I am genuinely interested in both positive and negative feedback, up to and including people tearing this to pieces.
Copyright Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. Any content not falling under any other party's copyright is copyright me.
Setting: QoH canon; shortly after "Gone."
Notes: This is a short with a story. Last May, a series of a million mistakes and bad calls I made culminated in the loss of one of my dearest friends. It took a lot of time, but I finally thought I was okay, that I had come to terms with how my bad behavior had driven away someone I loved. And then today, I read the latest Neverland update. And I just started sobbing halfway through. It brought everything back to the surface. So I wrote this. No one's read it, let alone beta read it. I've barely edited it. It feels so much more like Hemingway than my usual wordy style that I don't even recognize it as mine. I just know I need it out.


An Honest Conversation
"I miss her."

The sound took Willow by surprise. She hadn't meant to say it. Then a warm pressure on her left hand. Familiar, but not . . . . She glanced over, but it was already gone. Her hand felt cold.

"I miss my Mom."

Willow nodded, both grateful for and troubled by the omission. "I miss Joyce, too."

"She liked Tara."

"Oh." Willow looked up for the first time since before their food had arrived. Buffy met her eye and smiled. It looked strained. "I never knew that. I mean, I hoped . . . ." Willow shrugged. She looked back at her plate. It was easier.

"She did. Called her 'sneaky impressive.' Whatever that means."

"I didn't know they ever talked." Willow went back to stacking her fries.

"Mom mentioned it after Christmas. Tara helped clean the kitchen. They talked."

"Huh. What was I . . . wait. Was that when I nodded off on the couch? Xander's shoulder?"

"Yeah. Nog."

"Tara liked Joyce, too."

"Oh?"

"I mean, she never said much about her to me. Just that she was nice. But . . . I overheard her talking to Dawn a few times. Before they left on their visits. She had lots to say. Good stuff."

"Visits?"

Willow picked up another fry. It shook. She concentrated on not knocking over the rest. "Tara would take Dawn to the cemetery. To visit." She took a breath. "Both of you."

Willow finished two more layers.

"They used to go every Wednesday. After school."

"Tomorrow?"

Willow shrugged. "Neither of them is speaking to me."

Another layer. She was running out of fries.

"Mom thought she was good for you."

Willow looked up again. Buffy's head was down. "She was."

"They would both would tell you to eat those instead of doing . . . whatever that is." Buffy looked up.

"This?" Willow looked back to her fries. "It's like those log toys you get as kids. See, it's a fry cabin." She pointed to the four walls.

"No roof."

"If there was a roof, how could I do this?" Willow picked up the ketchup bottle and squeezed some into the center of her fries.

"You've done this before."

Willow nodded. "This summer. We. I mean, Tara and I. We took Dawn to the movies a lot. And we'd go to Double Meat or something afterwards. None of us really felt like eating, but Tara made us try." Willow waved at her small building. "This evolved over time. Less messy than the fry sabers."

"You were really good with Dawn. Better than me."

Willow shook her head. "Tara was good. Great. And you're her sister. I just did what Tara said." Willow took a fry from the building and took a bite. It was cold.

Willow took another fry. "If they do meet, Tara will spoil Dawn rotten." Willow stabbed her pile of ketchup. "Tara broke her arm when she was a kid." Willow remembered the cold anger in Tara's voice when she'd explained what Donnie had done. Willow shuddered.

"So did you."

"Still. They can bond over it."

"I think they already did. I mean, Dawn called her from the ER."

"Oh. Did Dawn say . . . ."

"What?"

"I just. I wish I knew how she is. If she's okay. I mean, I want her to be okay. But if she is . . . ." Willow shook her head. "I just wish I knew."

"Ah. Yeah."

"I thought it was hard with Oz. Not knowing where he was. Not being able to get in touch. But this. I know where she is. I could call her. I could go to her dorm. It takes work not to. Every minute of every day. I'm going to give in one day, and then I'll just make it worse."

The impulse sickened her. It was selfish and she knew it. She didn't deserve Buffy's help. Willow pushed back in her seat.

"You know, you should have Tara move back. She'd be better for both of you. I'll go to my parents' house. The sale won't go through for a few weeks yet."

"No." Buffy's hands closed around each of Willow's.

"But she's so much better--"

"Willow, no. If you-- Would you go back to it?"

Willow wanted to say no. It would be easier. She'd already been more honest in the last half hour than she had been in the past week. The truth was exhausting.

But so was lying.

"Yes."

"You stay."

"But--"

"Tara will be okay on her own. You won't. It's as simple as that."

Willow was about to object when a waiter arrived with a carafe and offered to refill their coffees. They both nodded.

Willow wrapped her hands around the cup. It was warm.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

[Wills redemption]

Dibs. You really moved me to tears here. Seeing (reading of) Willow in this state always hurts a little inside. God bless Buffy for being there for her and not letting her leave.

Considering your personal motivation for this story I really hope that you'll be able to talk to your friend and he/she will forgive you.
I'd like to read more from you (hopefully without a sad personal reason). Best wishes!

[BeMyDeputy]

JustSkipIt: I could give you crap about your feedback schedule, but, it would be . . . hypocritical. So, I’ll just stick with a “thanks for commenting.”

Thanks re: the mind wrapped around this point in time. It’s taken a lot of work, and a lot of rewatching, to build a picture of who they are and what their character arcs look like for QoH. It’s given me a really rich space to go to when I’m writing, even when I change various details around.

I’m glad you liked the geeky part of the Plato bit. I try very much to write Tara as the sort of person Willow would fall in love with, and to me that means she’s smart, probably geeky about something Willow isn’t (art, music, language, philosophy, it doesn't matter as long as not what Willow does), and that she doesn’t think of herself as smart in comparison to Willow. And the pillow fight was just fun.

You know, I didn’t think too much about the use of “crap.” It’s a word I use really casually, and I’m quite likely to use it (or stronger language) in silly debates over nothing. For me, it’s about them being comfortable another to call one another out, and sets up the point at the end. So, yeah, aggressive isn’t what I meant, and that may or may not matter depending on how much you care about authorial intent.

Lol. Tara thinking... "you have got to be kidding me. You're not supposed to prefer some other activity to sex for 5.5 more years. Didn't you read the manual?"

5.5 years? I dated the wrong people.

“Here we are.”

Tara looked around. “The roof? You want to show me the roof?”
Why isn't Tara more impressed? We used to sneak up on the dorm roof to look at the stars and loved it. We also used to sunbathe up there which is a totally different experience.

You know, in all my years at college, I’ve never been on the roof a university building. It just never came up. But, to answer your question, Tara isn’t impressed for two reasons. Practically, it’s because she doesn’t know why she’s there and she can’t really see much. The town is black, it’s a new moon, so until she looks up, there isn’t really much to see. Plus, she’s distracted thinking about the sex she isn’t having. But for the story, it was another place I wanted to emphasize where they are in their relationship: Tara doesn’t need to impress Willow with her reaction, so she doesn’t filter out her confusion and mild annoyance. It’s about Tara being able to express that there are things that really excite Willow that Tara doesn’t care about at all.

Awww. Now it's raining soft kittens in here.

This still makes me smile. Thanks.

Re: the how they got to the roof: When I’m watching a TV show, I think about how the characters got to the place they are when the scene begins. Why are they there? What happened just beforehand? What happens afterwards? The scenes are built for the arc of the show, but I think about them in the lives of the characters. It’s a habit I picked up writing QoH, and now I do it to everything.

I also love the contrast of Willow's science and knowledge and Tara's myth and romance and story.

Me too. It tells you about how they each see the world, and about how very different they are.

What a beautiful thing you've put into this little story. It's not just... hey... pretty stars. It's here we are a year into the relationship and this is the moment that Tara gets how much Willow loves her.

This moment is one of my favorites that I’ve written. It’s epiphanic and sweet, and I wasn’t even writing towards this moment when I started, which is part of what I find so charming about it. I had just been in a really big blackout here, and we could see a ton of stars for San Diego, and I thought I’d write a cute story about stargazing.

And then I notice you manage to avoid NC-17. It's ok though. It fits very well and is well done so I give you a pass on the lack of NC-17.

I didn’t know I needed your permission. ;p I did wonder which way they should go at the end: downstairs, or on the roof. Either way, I was going to end it—that epiphany needed to go at the end. I’m pleased with how the staying on the roof worked.

Anyway, thanks for the lovely feedback.

Ariel: Wedding Night is indeed hard. So hard, in fact, that I have come to think that making it the first story was a mistake. I’m really proud of the writing, but it isn’t exactly inviting.

I liked the quotes you pulled. A lot of what makes this story work, for me at least, is the starkness of the pain. I tend to write in a very wordy style, and the painful descriptions, like the ones you mentioned, stand out because they’re simple and understated. I mean, the letter being written the day Tara was born is already terrible, and I could have had Willow sit and ruminate on why and what May must have been feeling. But I think leaving the idea out there on its own cuts deeper. The description of the couch is this flash of color that makes the surrounding starkness worse: it emphasizes the absence of detail in the surrounding text.

I was glad you mentioned the line about Tara’s drinking: Tara’s use of alcohol to self-medicate the hell out of herself is a big part Stained Glass. It’s going to be really hard doing that to a character I love, but between her involvement in her mother’s death and her Huntington’s test results, Tara is in a seriously fuck up place when the story begins. Part of what I find so compelling about the canon Tara is how much of her character arc is before the show starts. She’s been through a lot, but it’s background. In Stained Glass, though, it isn’t background. It’s going to hurt like hell to write.


I’m glad you liked Blackout as well. It started out as just a bit of fun, nothing so serious as Wedding Nights, and I found myself at the revelation at the end. (Still not as serious as Wedding Nights, of course.) I was so happy that this sweet little moment between them could crystalize into something more.

Thanks for commenting.

wayland: I’m glad that their little argument conveyed a sense of where they are in the relationship. The original scene is painful for me to watch: Willow upset about Joyce and not having any idea how to begin to process it, and Tara distracting her with something that is just on hand, but happens to have a deeper meaning for Willow. What’s moving about the scene for me is how Tara picking up on how Willow feels and acting accordingly. Tara understands Willow, and in a way the rest of the Scoobies don’t. And because of that understanding, she gets the insight into Willow being comforted by the idea of being part of something bigger than herself. It’s the kind of comfort I think a lot of people take from faith, and Willow is getting it looking at the stars. And the moment says something about where they are in their relationship. I wanted to put them in a comparable spot, but with a different setup. Which is a really long way of saying “that what I was going for.”

Like I said to Deb, I didn’t really think about the whole “crap” thing too much. I regularly call things “bullshit” in trivial arguments, and if the dialogue had been written for me, that’s what would have gone in there. What I wanted was them comfortable with each other enough to call each other out and disagree.

I, too, like Tara witty and peeved. Season five shows Tara coming into her own after Family (albeit, in the background for the most part), and that puts her cleverness, obscure references, and willingness to finally disagree with Willow in the forefront. I haven’t written her here very often, but this part of her character arc is really incredible.

Showing not telling often makes more convincing writing, and Willow’s actions here allow Tara to believe.

This is so true. It’s hard, I think, to really understand how much someone else loves you. All the words in the world can’t compare with seeing it in action.

Thanks for the feedback and the advice while the piece was under construction.

TrueLove: Yeah, the weekly thing didn’t happen. Nor did my Thanksgiving aspirations for QoH. *sigh* The semester is just starting, so my schedule is changing. I’m looking to schedule myself more fiction writing time. But the proof will be in the posting.

I’m glad you liked Wedding Nights. It’s a hard piece. A really hard piece. Thank you so much for commenting—I think it can be harder to comment on pieces that are as depressing as this one. I am glad it was relatable. Real relationships involve leaning on each other when things are terrifying, and I like that this piece touches on how relationships deal with scary things. The section you quoted is one of my favorites, so I’m glad that it stood out to you. I spent a lot of time on this section; I wanted it stark, to reflect how much Willow doesn’t want to think about this, but I also needed an audience to understand exactly what Willow was getting at here.

The impression of Tara as a fount of strength is one I really get from the show; and it’s part of why exhausting her of that strength feels very powerful to me.

You know, I really should switch the order of these things. I think Wedding Nights is the stronger piece, and I’m more proud of it than I am of Blackout. But man, Blackout is sweet and funny and people are less likely to run screaming from the thread.

I’m glad you enjoyed it.

Will’s redemption Thanks for commenting. This looks at a moment that is pretty far from happy-land, and I value what people have to say about my less fluffy pieces. This is a far cry from my normal style, so I’m particularly happy this worked for you.

This was extra hard because Buffy is so broken, too. They’re both trying to recover here. And I think Buffy is as much telling Willow to stay for her sake as she is for Willow’s.

[BeMyDeputy]

Rating: R
Feedback: I am genuinely interested in both positive and negative feedback, up to and including people tearing this to pieces.
Copyright Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. Any content not falling under any other party's copyright is copyright me.
Setting: QoH cannon

Birthday Plans

“Happy birthday.” The words seemed to drive the sleep from Willow’s eyes, and Tara smiled.

“Thank you.” Willow bounced a little in place, and Tara laughed. “Hey, why are you laughing at the birthday girl?”

“Because the birthday girl has gone from the small frown and quiet unhappy noises she makes right before she wakes up to full on awake and beaming in record time.” Tara tapped the end of Willow’s nose affectionately. “I should say ‘happy birthday’ to you every morning.”

Willow narrowed her eyes. “I think you’re making fun of me. I lived with Buffy for a whole year, well, a whole school year, and she never said anything about me making unhappy noises before I wake up.”

“You’re adorable when you pout.”

“You’re dodging the question.”

Tara laughed again, and leaned down to kiss Willow. It was familiar and comforting, and—just for today—Tara let herself believe she’d be doing it every day for the rest of her life. “I am not making fun of you: you really do make unhappy noises before you wake up. Anyways, they’re endearing. It would an odd thing for your girlfriend to make fun of you over.” Tara liked that word, “girlfriend.” It had been a few months since they started using it, but it still felt new and remarkable.

Willow’s mouth twitched, and Tara could see the muscle strain of her trying not to smile. “Point, but that still doesn’t discount the ‘Buffy never said anything’ part.”

There was something about Willow feigning incredulity while wearing only a sheet that delighted Tara to no end. “I doubt Buffy was ever in a position to hear. They are very quiet—I can’t hear them if I’m across the room reading.” Tara ran a finger down Willow’s neck to her shoulder. “Or are you saying you and Buffy have spent enough time sleeping in the same bed for her to notice?”

Willow chuckled. “You know we haven’t.” It was true.

“I bet—” Tara shook her head, then went in for another kiss. Willow’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Damn.

“You bet what?”

“N-Nothing.” Tara tried to lean down again, but Willow’s hand held firm.

“You bet . . . Oz would agree with you?” Tara looked away, but nodded. “It’s okay to mention him jokingly, you know.” The soft assurance and gentle squeeze to her shoulder made Tara look back at Willow.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I seem to recall a big lecture on how it was okay for us to bring him up, remember?”

Tara nodded. “I remember. Just, after yesterday . . . you know?” The Tibetan-postmarked birthday card had surprised them both. Willow had cried when she got to valediction. Tara had just asked if she wanted to talk about it when Buffy and Xander showed up.

The hand on Tara’s shoulder shifted, and Willow pulled Tara down for a kiss. When Tara leaned up again, Willow met her eyes. “I know. I wasn’t prepared for it. But I’m okay now. I mean . . . .” Willow sighed. “I probably will want to talk about it at some point.” Willow rolled her eyes. “In fact, I’m sure I will. At length.” Willow smiled broadly. “But today is my birthday. Dealing with that is not what I want to do today.”

“So, birthday girl. What do you want to do today?”

“You.”

Despite its constant presence over the past months, Willow’s physical desire for her still felt like a minor miracle. “Th-that was part of the plan, it turns out.”

Willow’s eyebrows shot up. “You have a plan?” She smiled brightly, her tongue visibly pushed up against her teeth.

“I do.” Tara had been working on it ever since Buffy’s comment at the Bronze a month earlier about Willow being “eighteen and eleven twelfths.” There had been a great deal of excited hand waving and bouncing on Willow’s part before Buffy explained that Willow tended to get “more excited about her birthday than most eight year olds.” Birthdays weren’t really her forté, so Tara had spent the intervening time planning what to do.

“You didn’t have to. I mean, I know I’m super childish in my levels of birthday-related excitement.”

“I know I didn’t have to. But I wanted to.” Tara reached over and squeezed Willow’s hip. “Besides, your childish excitement over things is part of what I love about you.”

“Yay!” Willow clapped briefly, then swept her arm out dramatically. “The birthday girl demands to know your plans.”

Tara couldn’t help but shake her head and chuckle. “Well, your highness, let’s see. There’s brunch at Lou Henri. They’re finally open again, and they have the best eggs benedict. You have to try them with mimosas.”

“Mimosas? A bit risqué for a nineteenth birthday.”

“Says the girl who has amaretto sours every time Buffy and Xander don’t join us at the Bronze.”

“Pfft. Nothing that tastes that much like candy actually counts as alcoholic.”

“You do know what goes in—”

“Quiet, non-birthday girl!” Willow leaned up and stole a quick kiss, and Tara laughed. “Eggs benedict and mimosas, check. Next?”

“On the way home, we stop to feed the ducks off the bridge at Lake Laverne. I have some stale bread for the occasion.”

“Ooh.” Willow leaned closer. “I like that bridge,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“I know you do,” Tara whispered back. “Then we can spend the afternoon either at the zoo, at the beach, or watching movies.”

Willow made a face. “Not the zoo.”

“Not the zoo, check. This evening, Mrs. Summers is making lasagna for dinner for us and your friends. Then—” Willow’s face twitched. “I thought you like lasagna.”

“I do! Love it. Excellent choice.”

Tara gestured at Willow’s face. “So what was that about?”

Willow seemed to think for a moment before she explained. “It’s just, well, you said ‘your friends.’ Not ‘our friends.’ And I mean, I’m not telling you who you have to be friends with, but I want you to like Buffy and Xander . . . I’m ruining your plan-telling.”

Tara shook her head. “It’s okay. I do like Buffy and Xander. Anya, Riley, and Mr. Giles, too. I just don’t know them very well. They’re nice. In time, I think we will be friends. We’re just not there yet.”

Willow nodded. “I get it. And I’m really glad you like them.”

“Me too.” Tara shrugged. “I just don’t make friends very quickly.”

“Well, we made friends fast.” Willow smiled an “I know I’m being obstinate” smile.

“You are the exception to many rules.”

“I have many skills.”

“Thank you, Xena.” Willow just smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “Anyway, after dinner, we all head to the Bronze for your party. Well, not Mrs. Summers and Mr. Giles. The rest of us. As requested, the party will include cake, ice cream, and presents, and will last until it is no longer your birthday.”

“That’s the plan?”

“That’s the plan. Modifiable, of course, as you see fit.”

“The birthday girl is well pleased by your plan.” Willow pulled Tara on top of her and kissed her hard. “I have the best girlfriend ever. Thank you.”

Tara settled herself in to her new location, and propped herself up on her elbows. “You’re most welcome. Any thoughts on what you’d like to do with the afternoon, your birthday-ness?”

“Well, when we get home from the ducks, I was thinking we could first do some shopping.”

“Sure. What for?”

“Um.” Tara felt Willow shift around, and watched her eyes dart to everywhere but forward. “See, I had an idea. And you don’t have to like it, it’s just an idea, but. . . .” Willow’s face was rapidly turning pink. “But, it was a thought, that I had. And still have. It’s for that.”

Tara a feeling of what kind of “idea” Willow had in mind. They’d had several halting, eye-contact–less conversations about sex that had started in similar manners. The talks had resulted in the expansion of their sex life to include things such as whipped cream, chocolate syrup, erotic bedtime stories over the phone, and one disastrous—if humorous—attempt at shower sex. Despite the overall success rate, Willow (who usually came up with the ideas in the first place) had a difficult time explaining what it was she wanted to try, or looking even vaguely in Tara’s direction as she said it.

“I love your ideas.” Tara shifted so she could kiss Willow’s neck, and so Willow wouldn’t have to work so hard to look elsewhere. “Tell me all about it.”

“So, I was thinking about how you really like . . . well, internal . . . stuff . . . and I like more . . . external stuff.” A long pause. “And sometimes, when I’m inside—which I like, I really like. A lot. This is not meant to—”

“I know you like.” The first time they’d had one of these conversations, Tara had had to keep herself from laughing. Or commenting on the adorableness of a highly flustered Willow. But now, the way Willow talked about sex just came with the territory. What mattered was the content.

“Okay. Well, sometimes, I wish my hand were free, so I could touch you other places at the same time. But without stopping . . . the other. Does that make sense?”

“Completely.” Tara tried hard to sound comforting and reassuring, but Willow squirming below her, with only a doubled over sheet between them, was distracting. So were the fingernails moving on her back. Really need to wash the sheets tomorrow.

“Last night, for example. Towards the end? I very much could have used another hand then. You know?”

The reference was immediately clear. Tara had started out on her stomach, with Willow writing their names on her back, in chocolate, in different languages. She couldn’t quite remember the transition, but she had ended up on her hands and knees, pushing back onto Willow’s fingers and sliding her ass against Willow’s slick opening. “I know.” Tara made a mental note that they should have these talks either clothed or after sex.

“And, well, I know we haven’t really talked about. You know. Toys? But there are some that would take advantage of the ‘me-outside you-inside’ thing. And I know I couldn’t actually walk into an adult store. But I hear Good Vibrations is both non-skeevy and has a website. So, after ducks, do you want to shop for . . . .” Willow grumbled. “Um, shop?”

Tara sprang up, and brought her face directly in front of Willow’s. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, we can come home and shop for a strap on and harness.”

“You’re not just saying that because it’s my birthday?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re sure? I mean, it’s way diff—”

“Willow.” Patience in the face of naked Willow was not one of Tara’s virtues. “I’m sure. I want. Now, if you don’t stop talking and start sexing, you’re going to ruin my whole plan.”

“I thought Lou Henri was the first part of the plan?”

“There’s a reason I said brunch.”

[Will's redemption]

DIBS!
Somehow it always feels wrong when I can do that a few days after the post... But I'm sure more readers will stumble about this wonderful shortstory in the future. I simply love it because it's adorable, fluffy and sexy. Willow with her childish excitement about her birthday and getting totally flustered while voicing her special shopping plan is just too cute for words! That Tara on the other hand can talk about buying a strap-on with harness totally relaxed and without a hint of a stutter surprised me a bit.
I'm wondering when this takes place timeline-wise? I guess season 5, but I'm unsure if it's before or after "Family"?

Oh, just so you know, I'm not really new to the board , but when I tried to comment on the Neverland-Post last weekend all of a sudden I was told I had to Login first. Problem was that since my first Login years ago I always got in automatically, so I have totally forgotten the password I used back then. The e-Mail adress I had at that time no longer exists so I couldn't be send a new password. So I had to register with a new username (adding the apostroph in Will's). Otherwise, I'm still the same user, only at post one again, grrr!

Anyway, I'm looking forward to more short- (or longer - hint, hint ) stories from you!

[bluepaintbox]

Thank you for writing very enjoyable stories.

[Pavlov'sBell]

Hi there

I really honestly don't know what to say. I'm moved by a lot of fics I've read, but these are definitely up there in the ones that really summoned my W/T feels.

Wedding Nights - This one was definitely the one that almost reduced me to tears. I've read about Huntingtons' Disease (One of my favorite songwriters, Woody Guthrie, suffered from it, and it eventually claimed his life), so I've got probably a really basic or rough idea of what it does to a person's body/mind, and how it affects their loved ones. Imagining what Tara went through in this really almost made me have to take a break before I started crying. You captured both her and Willow's emotions so perfectly, I felt like I could almost feel exactly what they were feeling.

Blackout- Out of all of the stories in this thread, this one definitely made me chuckle. The star-gazing scene is one of my favorite W/T scenes in the show, so it definitely got bonus points in that department. Willow's choice in weaponry completely made me giggle, because it's so like her! Tara's bed-room talk brought a smile to my face, since it really makes me think about how happy she and Willow would be at that point. Seeing/reading about our girls being happy is definitely a highlight of any of my days. And then of course, we have Tara's names for the constellations. Those always make me smile like an idiot

An Honest Conversation - Oh man, oh man...fics that deal with the period between the breakup and the scene in "Entropy" always bring out the most indescribeable emotions in me. On one hand, I enjoy the angsty, but on the other hand, it completely plays with my mind in ways I'm not capable of listing. I've sadly felt Willow's pain in this, albeit in my own way (Since no too experiences in this kind of matter are the same), so I can definitely relate. The way you portrayed her (In my own interpretation anyway) really rings true with what we say on the show, and what we can simply imagine she went through. I love how the ending has a faint glimer of hope that we all know will end in a bright, shining light of happiness.

Birthday Plans - Oh Goddess, I think I just died of a cuteness overload. I love the simplicity in this, just Tara and Willow, sharing a peaceful and loving moment in bed together. It's definitely moments like this that make me feel so happy for them, knowing that in that moment, they're happy simply being with one another. Seeing that Willow trusts Tara enough to mention Oz, which I think was definitely a big thing early on in their relationship, made my heart fill up with an "aww" factor.

Thanks for writing these, I really enjoyed reading them

Colton