Aaaaand, I’m back. Sorry about the delay. My laptop failed, damn DC in jack, and while crucial things had been backed up already, I hadn’t backed up any of my work on this story. I’m really hoping I’ll be able to get some stuff of the hard drive eventually, but in the short term I had to rewrite my work on this section.
@LonelyTara: PAX was AMAZING; it was my third. My fiance and I run an independent game news and review site, and so I spent most of my time on the expo floor playing games and talking to developers instead of seeing speakers. I got to play a bunch of amazing games, some of which we’d seen in earlier versions at other game conferences. I did take the time to see the Wil Wheaton panel and a panel on game journalism. I also got to hug Jonathan Coulton (who signed the shirt I bought from him), get Paul and Storm to to sign my w00tstock SD poster, and to take a picture with Wil Wheaton, who also signed my w00tstock SD poster. I also got to speak to Chris Kohler, (important games journalist guy who works for Wired) about our website, which was super awesome. Oh, and I got Zombie Dice, a totally awesome game, particularly as a line game.
Oh, right. Story. I’m so glad you liked that line: it’s my favorite from this section. You singling it out makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.
@bloodynails Welcome! If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t sit down and watch Buffy until this April. Some friends of mine had tried to show it to me a few years ago, but the timing didn’t work with school and stuff. Since I did finally watch in April, I have found this site, read bunches of stories, and started writing. It was a productive summer. Oh, and caught up with all of How I Met Your Mother in order to see more Alyson Hannigan . . . mmmm. Where was I going with that? Oh, right, welcome to the site, and there seems to be a constant stream of new people here, so don’t feel intimidated by other people having been here longer. There are exciting benefits to being new, like being able to sit down and read what there is of Neverland in one chunk, rather than over many years. (Hah hah, suckers.)
@JustSkipIt: I’m glad it wove in well. I remember noticing that the “heart I desire” line is at the front of the episode where I (and many others) assume that the nature of the W/T relationship changes. I had to resist the urge to point at the screen and shout “I see what you did there! Cuz, cuz, hearts are a suit, but also, like, for lovey stuff, and she doesn’t take the crystal, but then she comes home and she has it and so the heart she wants is Tara’s and AAAAHHH!!!” or something equally coherent (I had a similar reaction when Glory brain-sucked Tara and the “at least vampires just kill you” line). I loved that it was subtle enough that I hadn’t noticed it the first . . . many . . . times I saw the episode, but that given that telegraphy and foreshadowing are so common on Buffy, I couldn’t believe it was an accident. Then a few days later I ran into the clip of Amber singing “Queen of Hearts,” and it was just too perfect: I started writing.
So I didn’t lie when I said it was that clip that made me want to write this, but I left out the part explaining why it meant anything to me. Well, meant anything other than “Holy shit that was fucking HOT. I’ll be in my bunk.”
@vazy: Tautological comments are tautological.
Author: BeMyDeputy
Rating: PG-13 (language, smoochies) for this section. Up to NC-17 for later installments Much later, so chill.
Feedback: Welcome. Seriously, as opposed to "I wrote and am pubilcally posting it, now shut up and like it?"
Notes: The entirety of Chapter 2, including "In Which There Is Disbelief and Powderkegs" takes place during "The I in Team"
Spoilers: This is season 4. If you haven't seen season 4, what are you doing here?
Content disclaimer (this section): Violence: No. Sex: No. Angst: Yes
I Don't Own This Disclaimer: The entire Buffyverse (including setting, characters, and plot) is property of it's owners, including but not limited to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. "The I in Team" was written by David Fury.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to my awesome beta reader, dlline, who is so awesome that I really keep trying to come up with new ways to enumerate her awesomeness, but awesome just says so much.
Special section note: I'm really attached to a particular turn of phrase, but I know not everyone has read Plato. So, if you don't know The Allegory of the Cave, I suggest the linked Wikipedia article. Or just ignoring anything I say about shadows on walls.
Chapter 2 Part 4: In Which there Is Disbelief and Powderkegs
a.k.a. In Which We Get Smoochies! Yay!
“I’m interested in you.”
The words, the
exact words Tara had asked for a week ago, the
exact four words that stood between Tara and deliberately taking the constant flirting and affection from Willow as anything more than friendship, hit Tara like a truck. The sound of those words had become the prelude to the times she indulged herself, against her better judgment, in her burning physical desire for Willow. But here they meant something different. They meant she was dreaming. Willow wouldn’t say those words. Couldn’t say them. She was a merciless tease, to be sure, but this would be unspeakably cruel.
It fit: Willow had told her that she was spending the night with her friends, and wouldn’t be coming over. The more she thought about it, the more Tara realized that the idea that anyone would leave Willow to do anything else was ridiculous; the mere idea that anything was preferable to spending time with Willow was laughable. Nor did it make sense that Willow would come over and apologize for the afternoon’s awkwardness, as it had so clearly been Tara’s forwardness and presumption that had caused the problem.
For the second time that day, the rose-tinted world Tara had constructed came crashing down around her, shredding her as it fell.
I fell asleep after dinner. She never came by. We never talked. I have to apologize again. I have to explain again. I have to hold it together . . . again. It was too much.
And so, in the arms of the woman with whom she was falling so desperately in love, Tara began to sob. She felt soft fingers brushing away her tears, but it didn’t matter. She felt strong arms pulling her in close, but it wasn’t real.
“Tara?” She heard her name spoken with such compassion and tenderness that it only made her sob harder.
“I thought you’d be happy. Not that I was just trying to make you happy—it’s just . . . you had me promise.” Tara felt Willow’s shoulders collapse. She didn’t recognize the waver in Willow’s voice as she continued. “I’m sorry. I can go . . . .”
“No!” She flung her arms around Willow; she realized at once that she’d rather be kept company by a dream than be left alone with her desperation. “
Of course that would make me happy. Euphoric. T-that’s why it hurts so m-much. I figured out I’m d-dreaming.”
Tara felt the fingers that had been stroking her cheek move to her chin, tilting it upwards. Though she succumbed to the gentle pressure, she closed her eyes tighter against the possibility of reality breaking through.
At once, Tara was at peace. She was safe and warm. The soft, tender feeling radiated throughout her body, originating from a simple pressure against her lips. It was the very embodiment of gentleness. Tara was vaguely aware of her own lips returning the pressure of their own accord, but was primarily mindful of the serenity that had completely replaced the devastation from moments earlier. As she began to return the pressure, the feeling slightly changed. Her body began to hum as quiet notes of want and excitement joined the dominant ones of tenderness and security already present to form the perfect chord of calm and passion.
Tara pulled away, dumbstruck. She knew what it was to dream that Willow was kissing her; it was a feeling with which she was intimately familiar. But that . . . . If the dream of Willow’s lips upon hers was a shadow on the wall, that was the Platonic form that cast it.
Tara wasn’t dreaming.
Willow’s interested in me. When she told me, I started crying, which probably gave her a heart attack. Willow kissed me. I pulled away, which probably made her think I wanted her to stop.
“I-I’m not dreaming, am I?” Tara was amazed that the question could fill her with such panic.
Willow smiled warmly at her, and gently shook her head. “No.” After a moment, her smile faltered. “I hope that’s okay.”
Tara nodded hurriedly. “
Qua okay.”
Willow chuckled weakly. “You and your ancient Greek philosophers. But seriously, that…” Willow pointed between their faces, “…was okay? You seemed kinda freaked.”
Tara smiled as she determinedly placed her hands on Willow’s shoulders, and gently pushed her back as she closely monitored her face for any sign of hesitation. Met instead with expressions Tara could only discern to be glee and anticipation, she continued until Willow was flat on her back. She settled her hands on either side of Willow’s head, and let her hair fall past her shoulders to frame Willow’s face.
“I need you to do me a favor,” Tara whispered gently. She slowly began to close the distance between their faces as she continued. “I need to you to take everything that happened after you said that you’re interested in me and put worrying about it on hold. Instead, just . . . focus . . . on . . . this.” Tara was about to close the final six inches when she realized where she was and paused. “Seriously, Willow, how could you be
here and not want to--”
Tara was cut off as Willow did exactly what Tara had stopped herself from doing a week ago. Arms pulled her down by her waist and head, and once again Tara experienced a Platonic ideal. The feelings of want and excitement reverberated louder in this incarnation, which tore a moan from Tara’s throat. A point of electricity repeatedly traced the shape of her lips. When Tara recognized the cause as a moist and localized pressure caused by Willow’s tongue, her lips opened without a second thought. Tara melted as the source tentatively entered her mouth. She moved her tongue to greet the welcome visitor; as they met, Tara was completely consumed in ecstasy.
Some unknown time later, Willow gently pulled away and rolled Tara onto her side. She placed a gentle peck on the tip of Tara’s nose.
So that’s what noses are for. Convenient.
“Hold that thought.” Willow said as she sat up and moved to remove her sweater. Tara’s heart stopped until she saw that there was a camisole beneath the sweater. “Sorry, overheating.” Free of her extra layer, Willow lay back down beside Tara and smiled happily. “You kiss new moon kisses.”
“Is that so?” Only obliquely interested in how to translate this piece of Willowese, Tara began to place a series of kisses along Willow’s jaw, each increment increasing in intensity and desire. She gently ran her hand up and down Willow’s back; her heart raced as her fingertips failed to discover a bra beneath the undershirt.
“Yep. You definitely kiss new moon kisses. Which really only should make sense to me, I suppose. You see . . . well . . . um. We really need to talk.”
Talk? The hell we need to talk. We’ve been talking all week. Unconvinced, Tara continued her journey until she reached Willow’s earlobe. Carefully, she pulled it into her mouth and sucked gently for a moment. “No talking. More kissing.” Tara punctuated her point with her teeth.
All at once, Tara found herself on her back, her ass clenched within a small hand, and felt lips close roughly on hers. Now, when Willow’s tongue moved forward, it
demanded entrance. If their first kiss had been the embodiment of gentleness, this was the embodiment of need. As a slim thigh began to push its way insistently between her knees, Tara realized that if Willow were to decide to take her, here and now, that she would be unwilling to stop her. As the thought crystallized, Tara shuddered: it was at once arousing, intoxicating, and intimidating.
Willow must have felt Tara react, because as rapidly as she had maneuvered herself on top of Tara she had retreated, and sat at the end of the bed. Painfully aware of the sudden loss of contact, Tara propped herself up on her elbows in order to meet Willow’s eyes, but found them wide and jumpy. Her mouth was slightly open, but at the same time a distinct frown.
That was so amazing, but then it stopped and now she looks like regrets it?
“W-what just ha--”
“Oh, no, I am really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have—you already showed me you want new moon kisses and here I am with the waxing gibbous kissing . . . .” Her voice became increasingly desperate as her hand moved to her ear. “It’s just . . . it’s been a long time, and I know that isn’t an excuse, but teeth mean something very specific to me.” She dropped her head for a moment before looking back up at Tara, resolute. “Talking. Very important. I have to tell you about . . . and once I do, you may not want . . . this.”
Tara raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “I can’t imagine anything about you that could make me not want this.”
“You can't imagine
this.” She sighed. “I’m a Scooby.”
What the--kissing time is being interrupted for this? “You’re a cartoon dog?”
Willow rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I can’t believe that won the vote. 'Slayerettes' was perfectly serviceable, and far catchier, but nooo, Xander said it sounded too girly.”
“I see why this discussion was so important that the kissing had to stop.” Tara only halfheartedly tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“Sorry, I’m just not excited about this discussion, even if it has to happen.” Willow took a deep breath, fidgeting nervously. “It’s a really long story. A three year long story, in fact. The abstract goes like this. Monsters are real: not just The Gentlemen, but also demons and more importantly vampires. As long as there have been vampires, there’s the slayer: ‘one girl in all the world,’ chosen to fight the forces of evil. Right now, that girl is my friend and roommate, Buffy. Almost as long as she’s been the slayer, my friend Xander and I have fought along side her with the help of her Watcher, which, for reference is like crazy-slayer-culture speak for boss and trainer, Giles. We don’t get the epic strength or mystical reflexes or any of the other package benefits that Buffy gets, but we help with research and patrolling. Suffice it to say I have a top-secret, high-pressure, extremely deadly hobby that can demand my attention at the drop of a hat, and if I don’t give it my all, the world can literally end.”
Demons. She knows about demons. That’s bad. Possibly good. We’ll see in Octo—no. Not thinking about that now. Tara pushed away the thought as she felt Willow’s expectant eyes on her. Tara smiled slowly as she considered her. Willow’s interest in her certainly beat out the existence of monsters for ‘most interesting news of the evening’. “You’re concerned that your altruistic efforts to save the world and the lives of everyone on it would somehow make me find you
less attractive?”
“Really?” Willow beamed, the tip of her tongue pushed past her teeth. The tension had visibly left her, and she moved quickly to lie back down. Tara gasped as fingers wove their way into her hair. “’Cause the world? Tries to end. At the worst. Possible. Moments.” Willow interspersed her words with gentle but urgent kisses; Tara knew that any court in the land would consider a response given under these conditions 'under duress,' but didn’t care.
“I would be honored to have my kissing time interrupted by you running off to save the world.” Sealing her offer with a kiss, Tara added, “As long as it exists to be interrupted, I’m happy.”
“That can be arranged. I mean, I have this course in learning to kiss one Tara Maclay I just signed up for, and I was
really hoping you could help me cram.”
A few pleasant minutes later, a thought occurred to Tara. “So, while I see why that was so important that the kissing needed to pause, it doesn’t explain your unique and . . . lunar? . . . descriptions for kisses. You w-were about to explain and then I was rather satisfyingly pinned to the bed.” Tara looked at Willow in earnest. “That can happen again, just so we’re clear.”
A smile flashed on Willow’s face before a pensive look set it. She gazed at Tara, apparently lost in thought: Tara wasn’t used to Willow carefully choosing her words, and so felt that it would be best to leave her too it without significant distraction. As a gentle sign of support, and to fill the gaping hole that was left when she wasn’t touching Willow, Tara ran her fingertips softly up and down Willow’s arm.
“You know the League of Nations?” Willow began all of a sudden.
“Uh . . . President Wilson. Post World War I. Fell apart. Set up Germany’s feelings of helplessness that helped feed into World War II.” Tara had no idea where this was going, but trusted Willow to get her there. Now that the silence was broken, she busied herself with the delightful task of discovering where on Willow’s neck elicited the best response when kissed, sucked, or nipped.
“Right. So, the League of Nations turned Europe into this powder keg, but after the war, it was the best anyone could think of to try and put the world back together. I’m stuck in a similar sort of position: I’m know I’m opening a powder—oh please do that again.” Tara complied, and Willow moaned. “Um, where was I? Right. Opening a powder keg, but it’s the best I thing I can think of to do. But to reduce the number of potential sparks that would make the powder go boom . . . can you believe me when I say that I like this? That I want this?” Tara let her face be guided away from the task at hand to find Willow looking seriously at her. “Do you understand that this is something I’m seeking on my own? That being here with you like this makes me happier than I have words for, which given my loquacious tendencies, is pretty darned impressive? Do you believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t . . . .” Tara’s face fell as she realized where Willow was going with this. “Oz. This is about Oz.”
Willow nodded slowly, guilt etched into her face. “I know this isn’t the best time . . . I don’t really want to think about him right now. But a few things about what happened are relevant.” Tara found herself rolled onto her back again, but this time slowly and gently. Willow pressed down into her, and looked down, concerned. “I am absolutely one hundred percent sure that I’m interested in you, and that there is nothing else in the world I would rather be doing than being here kissing you. Okay?”
Tara pulled Willow’s face down into her own, and kissed her deeply. “I believe you.”
Tara felt Willow relax, but only a little.
“Now, he hurt me pretty bad when he left. You know that. But I . . . he loved me. Despite everything that happened, I would never want anything bad to happen to him just because he loved me. I couldn’t bear it if he died for the crime of loving me. Promise me you would never do anything to hurt him.”
“
Died? Willow, what are you talking about?”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise. I may be upset with him for hurting you, but I don’t want him to die. Why is that a question?”
“Oz is a werewolf.”
Werewolf? Willow dated a werewolf. Her only boyfriend was a werewolf. That’s one hell of a reference point. And yeah, if the wrong people found out . . . he probably would die. Werewolf. Why does that sound fami--? Her eyes went wide as she realized.
“Your nightmare. Did that . . .?” Tara ran her eyes and fingers over Willow’s throat, looking for a bite mark.
Willow softly squeezed the hand at her throat. “Don’t worry, I’m not: he never bit me. Parts of my dream . . . yeah, parts happened. But he never physically hurt me; Buffy saved me.”
“Please pass along my thanks for that. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Thank you.” As if to reassure Tara that the discussion of Oz hadn’t dissuaded her of her interest in their activities, Willow kissed Tara enthusiastically. “I have one more lengthy and obtuse metaphor before the payoff for playing with explosives. Come to think on it, you must really, really like me, because this garden path is pretty long.”
Tara laughed. “I think I could listen to you talk forever. It’s . . . enchanting.” Understanding that Willow would be talking for a while, Tara resumed her earlier exploration of Willow’s neck with her lips.
“Well, it would be a lot harder to return to kissing you back if I talked forever. So I think I’ll just stick with this last tangent: people talk about comparing apples and oranges like it can’t be done, or that you can’t learn anything informative from it, but that’s not true at all. You can make lots of comparisons: for example, they both make delicious juice. Apples don’t have to be peeled, but oranges do. Now, imagine you were to spend your whole life and the only fruit you had was apples, and then in college you realize you want an orange; the only words you’d have to describe the orange were words you learned eating apples. Because apples are your only point of reference. It doesn’t mean you’re making a better-or-worse comparison, it just means that’s the only vocabulary you have. Do you see what I’m saying?”
“You’re saying that you’ve only made out with guys before, so when you say things like ‘wow, oranges need peeling, that’s different,’ that I shouldn’t worry that it’s because you’re upset that I’m a girl.”
“Exactly! That works really well, too, because girls wear bras, providing an extra layer before nakedy-goodness, so the peeling metaphor is apt, and I think I just implied I wanted to see you naked, and that’s just a little disorienting, not because I don’t, but because different parts of my head are catching up on this ‘interested in you’ thing at different rates, and I think I should just stop talking.”
Taking a page from her victim’s playbook, Tara rapidly rolled on top of Willow, pinning her to the bed. “Oh, you can talk about wanting to see me naked any time you want.” Tara lowered her mouth to Willow’s ear and whispered, “In fact, if you keep talking about wanting it, I’m sure someday it could be arranged.”
Tara felt arousal shoot through her body and completely take over her entire awareness. She had no idea how long it took for her to identify what was happening: teeth were latched onto her jugular, and she was pulled down by her hips into Willow. Tara moaned, luxuriating in the carnal feeling of Willow wanting her, which resulted in teeth and hands grasping harder.
Eventually, Willow pulled back, breath ragged, to meet Tara’s eyes. “You are one heck of a seductress, missy. I can’t believe you’ve never had a girlfriend. How do you come up with things like that?”
Could it be because I’ve been dreaming about seducing you from the moment I first saw you? That before I heard you speak a word I had already identified you as the most attractive woman on campus? With a smirk, Tara got up and wordlessly walked to her desk.
“Hey! Where did my sexy blanket go? I was kissing my sexy blanket!” Tara resisted the urge to smile at Willow’s faux distressed tone.
Tara pulled down the now-unnecessary reminder from next to her desk, and returned to Willow, handing the post-it over as she merrily resumed her role as alluring bedding.
“Your Greek assignment taught you enticing things to say?”
Tara grinned, and shook her head. “It wasn’t a Greek assignment.”
Willow looked at her in disbelief. “You lied to me about your note? But . . . I’m mentioned! Is it about me? What’d you write about me?”
Tara shook her head again, taking pleasure in Willow’s consternation. “Oh no. If you want to know, you can learn enough Greek to read it.”
“Meanie.” Willow stuck out her tongue.
Tara considered her for a moment. “You’re baiting me into kissing you.”
“Well . . . yes.” Willow smiled, apparently pleased to be caught. “I’m glad you caught on. So . . . .” Tara recognized Willow's smile as expectant and hopeful.
“I want my payoff first.”
“Payoff?”
“I navigated European History, werewolf care and feeding, and philosophical discussions about fruit comparison to find out what you mean by ‘new moon kissing.’ You said the fruit was the last metaphor. I want my payoff.”
“Right. That. Well, it turns out that the wolfy-ness wasn’t the only thing about Oz that cycled with the moon. The tone of . . .” Willow blushed, “other things . . . changed with the phases of the moon. So, when I say you kiss new moon kisses, I mean that you kiss like this.” Willow softly cupped Tara’s face in her palm, encouraging her face closer. Tara felt her heart melt as Willow’s lips briefly brushed against her own. As their lips met once again, Tara felt the chord of feelings Willow had sent through her in their first kiss take over once more.
“That’s a very nice turn of phrase. And handy. I could see wanting to express that sentiment without taking two minutes to say it.”
Particularly if you plan on saying it to anyone that isn’t me.
“You really don’t mind that I think like that?”
“How could I expect you to see the world differently? Besides, do you realize I spend all day studying language? Greek, Latin, mythology, and English. Lately I then come home and spend the evening learning to speak Willow. This is just another example of how you make words come together in amazing ways. I told you. It’s enchanting.” Tara watched Willow glow as the words of praise sank in.
“Speaking of classes, do you think you could help me study for that new class tonight? I’d really like to show marked improvement by tomorrow.”
“I could help you out with that. I mean, what if there’s a pop quiz tomorrow? You want to be prepared. I’d feel terrible if I distracted you from studying and then you got a bad grade.” Tara settled in to spend the night making sure that Willow would excel on any future exams.
by mishki » Thu Sep 09, 2010 7:06 pm 
This part of Ch. 2 was really well done (as it predecessors have been). Getting into Willow's head when she returns to the room with the d.e. crystal was a bit sad, as we see the impact that the growing distance between her and Buffy so clearly, but it felt very visceral, very authentic to the moment. I love her attempts to scientifically analyze what's happening with her feelings for Tara, and I for one CANNOT WAIT for the "what turns you on" testing. In detail. Please.
