Author: BeMyDeputy (Kate)
Rating: PG-13 for this section (for sexiness). Up to NC-17 for later installments.
Feedback: Yes! Please! Are you reading and don’t have more than “I like this”? Fine, post that! Disagree terribly with my portrayal of the characters? Fine, post that, but I reserve the right to defend them. Supposedly sexy parts not sexy? Bitch! This is my first major fiction piece, so rip it up. If you just write “you suck,” I’ll ignore you.
Notes: The entirety of Chapter 3, including "Drowning" takes place during "Goodbye Iowa"
Spoilers: This is season 4. If you haven't seen season 4, what are you doing here?
Content disclaimer (this section) : Sex: No. Angst: Yes.
I Don't Own This Disclaimer: The entire Buffyverse (including setting, characters, and plot) is property of its owners, including but not limited to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. "Goodbye Iowa" was written by Marti Noxon.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to my awesome beta reader, dlline, who encourages my being really mean to my characters. I hurt them because I love them, you see.
Chapter 3 part 5: Drowning
“Hey you.” Tara looked pleasantly surprised when she opened the door, a look with which Willow had become rather familiar.
“Hey there.” Willow let Tara's smile wash away the tension and confusion and the fear that were pervasive in her life. Tara's smile was a universal solvent for everything wrong in the world. In that moment, Willow realized that as much as she wanted Tara to be a part of her normal life, she was afraid of diluting that solvent, of making it less potent by sharing it with the people she loved. Willow's smile faltered, but only for a moment; Tara was still smiling, and that meant the world was right.
“Oh. Please, come in.” Tara opened the door, and Willow gratefully entered. The pressure differential was just so huge. It was like coming up from scuba diving; she felt like if it happened too fast, she'd get the emotional equivalent of the bends. There was the pressure of the world that was Out There, with demons and Adam and the Initiative and the craziness that was being friends with Buffy Summers. Then there was Here, where it was serene (or at least as serene as “flooded with hormones” allowed). Where she could breathe. Her thoughts flowed just as fast Here as they did Out There, but in Here they all flowed the same direction, instead of twelve directions at once.
“So, d-did Buffy find that demon?” Tara was so kind, so patient. She seemed to intuit that Willow needed the space to decompress at her own pace. She never tried to force anything; to pull Willow up too quickly from the depths.
“Ugh.” Willow walked to Tara's bed and collapsed onto it. “More like it found her.”
Tara's face went white as she sat down next to Willow on the bed. “I-is she okay?”
Willow gently reached out and set a hand on Tara's knee. “She's fine. Well, she didn't get hurt, at least.” Willow sighed and closed her eyes. “So, we found out a lot last night. My psych professor was stabbed to death, but not by the Polgara demon we were looking for with the spell last night. It turns out she was playing Frankenstein, and made herself a monster, only with demon and machine parts as well as human.” Willow suddenly remembered an exciting detail, and sat up, hands waving, to relate it. “Oh, I was so proud! During last night's debrief-y thing, Buffy called the monster Frankenstein, but then Xander pointed out that Frankenstein was the name of the scientist, not the monster. He remembered the Wishbone!” Tara smirked. “Okay, okay, I get awfully proud of my students' achievements,” Willow said, shoulders slightly fallen.
“Xander's your student now?”
“Only when I teach him things. So . . . since we were four.” Tara laughed, and Willow rolled her eyes. “So I was a nerdy four-year old.” Tara kept laughing, and Willow could finally breathe. “You know what?” she said, as she flopped back onto the bed. “What I really want right now is a nap. I promise you all the details over dinner if you let me nap until then.”
“Okay. Did you not sleep well?”
“Blech.” Willow kicked off her shoes. “We all crashed at Xander’s again, and since Buffy was on patrol, it was just me and Anya in the bed. I swear that girl is like an ideal gas when she sleeps: she expands to take up whatever space is available. And she snores. Loudly. In my ear.”
“Poor thing. It’s okay if you want to nap. I’ve got homework I can do until dinner.” Tara started to stand, but Willow caught her arm.
“No, don’t go.” Willow tugged on the captured arm. “Keep me company. I need to be snuggled,” she beseeched.
Tara shook her head gently, but pulled back the red blanket and knelt on her bed. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t encourage me.” Willow smiled gleefully at Tara, then rolled off the bed and pulled back the covers on her side. When she looked back up, Tara had a pillow aimed at her head. “Eek!” Willow dove onto the bed and under the covers, and the pillow missed. Willow still remembered where Tara knelt, and grabbed her around the calves to pull her down.
“Ah!” Tara fell forwards onto the bed. Even through the mess of blanket that now covered her, Willow could hear Tara’s laughter. Laughter was of the good. Tara had seemed nervous, even scared when Willow had left last night, so she was glad to see Tara in good spirits. Willow felt Tara’s weight shift on the bed, and heard a change in her laughter. Uh oh, that’s ‘I’m going to get you’ laughter. Now where did the edge of–
“Ack!” Willow’s hunt for escape from the blanket was abruptly interrupted by Tara pining her to the bed. A moment later, a tangle of covers rushed over the skin of Willow’s right arm and face.
“Gotcha.” Tara grinned madly down at Willow. Willow looked up at her captor, and for the first time that day took a minute to really look at her. Tara wore a billowy button-down, vibrant red shirt; it looked to be made of silk, and Willow remembered it being amazingly smooth and soft from when she held Tara’s arm a moment earlier, and now she wanted to touch it again. Most of the buttons were closed, so even from this vantage point Willow could only see as low as Tara’s collarbone, which suddenly was a disappointment. Her broad smile brought out the dimples on her face, on which there appeared to be no makeup. Willow could see from how the smile reached Tara’s eyes that she was delighted. Tara’s face was close enough that the hair that hung down from either side of her face brushed Willow’s cheeks. Even with the rest of the world blocked out, Willow felt complete: in Tara she’d found not only a friend and magic partner, but a much-needed playmate, and a handsome one at that.
“You’re really beautiful,” Willow said after several minutes of looking up at Tara. Tara, who had seemed content to look back down at Willow during those minutes (if anything, her smile had deepened as they stared in silence at one another), reacted with surprise: her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink. Willow realized that while she had applied that adjective and its synonyms to Tara many times in her head, she’d never done so out loud. Still, Tara presumably saw herself in the mirror everyday; one would think she would have noticed this by now.
“N-n-no, not really.” As Tara shook her head, her hair swept across Willow’s face and tickled her nose.
“Yes really. I mean, I may not know that much, or anything, really, about what makes women attractive. But I hear that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Willow brought her free hand up to Tara’s cheek and gently rubbed it with her thumb. “To my eyes, you’re gorgeous.” With a smile, Willow slid her hand to the back of Tara’s neck and reached up to kiss away the shocked look on Tara’s face. The kiss was soft and sweet, each gentle as though the other was something delicate, like a rose. Yay, new moon kisses.
Eventually, Willow’s muscles gave out, and she leaned back onto the bed. Tara looked down at her, and repeatedly opened and closed her mouth, as if searching for something to say. After a moment, she ducked her head and gently nuzzled Willow’s nose with her own before she set her forehead on Willow’s and looked into her eyes. “You’re wonderful.”
Wonderful. The word filled Willow with a peace and completion she didn’t recognize. Studious and diligent and a Scooby were all who she was, but she lacked a why. She just was. But now she had a raison d'être: to be wonderful for Tara. Willow lost herself in Tara’s eyes as she let the feeling fill her, like a light chasing away the darkness from a room. When the feeling had consumed her, Tara’s gaze became too much, and Willow had to look away.
“So, uh, nap time?” Willow asked with a sudden, desperate need to put some space between herself and the intensity of the moment.
“Sure,” Tara agreed before she lifted her forehead off Willow’s and replaced it with a brief kiss. Tara moved off to the side, and helped Willow disentangle herself from the knot of covers she’d created earlier. Shortly thereafter, Willow lay next to Tara in the bed, with her head resting on Tara’s breast and Tara’s arm wrapped around her back.
As Willow willed herself to slow her breathing, she felt her heart pounding. Okay, depth of feeling for Tara: deep. Very deep. Like, can’t-touch-the-bottom-with-my-feet deep.
“It’s okay. You can relax,” Tara gently said. Willow hadn’t realized she was tense until Tara spoke. Tara followed her words by placing a kiss on the top of Willow’s head, and began to rub Willow’s back. “I’ve got you.”
Willow held onto those words, and cocooned in the warmth and safety of Tara, she swiftly drifted to sleep.
***
“Willow?”
“Mmmnghmm.”
“Willow, time to get up.”
“Nnn mmm.”
“Willow, it’s time to go to dinner.”
“Grrrrr.”
“Come on Willow, you have to eat.”
“Argh.”
“Fine, I’ll go without you.” A rush of cool air hit Willow’s body and for a split second she felt like she was falling. Once her head landed on the bed, she realized what had happened: Tara had pulled down the covers and then pulled herself out from under Willow. She still kept her eyes closed against the wakeful light of the room.
“This is not nearly as comfortable as Tara-snuggles, I’ll have you know.”
“Tough.” Tara’s weight on the bed shifted, and then left, like she had gotten up. When she spoke again, her voice was farther away. “I’m hungry, and I’m going to go eat. You’re free to stay if you like.”
Willow sat up, but wasn’t willing to give up on the eye-opening front quite yet. “But how will I get Tara-snuggles with you gone?” Tara clearly wasn’t making any sense.
“You won’t.”
“Well that’s no good.”
“So, get up--”
“Boo.”
“. . . come to dinner with me, and when we get back, there can be snuggles.” Willow heard Tara approach and felt a weight on the bed in front of her. Lips gently pressed a kiss onto the tip of her nose, and Willow finally opened her eyes. Tara knelt in front of her, a sweet smile on her face.
“Slave driver.”
“C’mon.” Tara rocked back onto her feet and extended her hands to help Willow up. With a roll of her eyes, Willow complied, and slid her shoes back on from where they had landed. As Willow approached the door to the room, Tara spoke in a low voice. “And Willow?”
“Yeah?” Willow stopped and turned to face Tara, who just kept advancing. There was an intense look in her eye Willow recognized, but didn’t understand (I’ve got to keep track of when she does that) as she looked Willow up and down. Willow took a few small steps backward before she found her back pressed into the door of the room. Tara’s hands came up and held Willow’s shoulders gently against the door. Willow gulped.
“There can be more than snuggles.” Tara pressed into Willow and kissed her fiercely. “If you want.” Desire coursed through Willow’s body in a flash fire, and she hungrily returned the kiss. Her body ached for Tara’s; it screamed at her for wasting precious hours pressed into Tara and napping, of all things. Willow grabbed Tara’s hips and pulled her in even tighter before she slid her hands back to caress and squeeze Tara’s ass. Willow didn’t want to go to dinner. Willow wanted to stay here, to unbutton Tara’s shirt, to pull down Tara’s black skirt, and . . . well, she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted after that, but she felt sure she’d figure it out once she’d removed Tara’s clothes.
And then it stopped.
Willow opened her eyes in search of the flash flood that had doused her passion. Tara stood a good two steps back into the room. Her cheeks were flushed, but otherwise looked as though nothing had happened. Willow blinked a few times, but Tara did not magically reappear in her arms, and instead stayed put, where she seemed to wait patiently.
“Shall we?” she asked in a maddeningly calm voice.
“Wu-what?” World does not compute.
“Dinner? It’s uh, downstairs? Unless you w-wanted to walk over to Burge.”
Willow shook her head, still unable to reconcile Tara’s calm demeanor and the lingering tingle on her skin everywhere Tara had been pressed into her. “No, Hillcrest has better food, anyway.”
“Then let’s.” With a nod to the door, Tara took a small step forward.
Still rather dumbfounded, Willow left the room with Tara close on her heels. Tara locked up and headed downstairs toward food service, and Willow followed her on autopilot.
Okay, didn’t peg Tara as the ‘total tease’ type. At least, I think that’s what was going on there. Is that what was going on there? Not that I understand what’s going on with the big picture here. With a frown, Willow considered Tara. Tara’s head was tilted down, and her hands were clasped behind her back. Willow had seen Tara hold her hands like that once before: after she had jumped at Tara’s touch in her dorm room yesterday. The memory made her conscious squirm: Tara had clearly been upset, and yet Willow found herself unable to offer a good explanation. What could I have said? “Sorry, Oz and I were intimate here, so you touching me while we’re here feels really weird? ” Willow’s frown deepened. Though Tara had generally been rather calm when Willow had spoken of Oz in the past, the thought of him made Willow uncomfortable, particularly when she was around Tara.
What on Earth am I doing? How far am I going to take this? How far is it right to take this? Oz and I had been together forever when we . . . I loved him. How far is it right to take this without loving her? I can’t be her Parker. Or Faith. Eww. She deserves better than that.
Willow was lost in her fears as she collected her food and followed Tara to a booth in the corner before she was able to push them away. Once seated, she looked down at her food and sighed. “Man, one thing I miss about living at home is my own kitchen.”
“You cook?”
“Everyone’s always surprised.” Willow shrugged. “I’m a really great cook, actually. I was a latch-key kid since I was in kindergarten, and started cooking myself dinner when I was about seven. It was either learn to cook or microwave myself hot pockets every single day. Plus, this way Xander got food that wasn’t delivered or cup ramen.” After she took a bite of her food, she continued. “See, they call this chicken and dumplings, but I disagree. Mine actually taste like chicken.”
“Tasty.”
“They really are. Some Sunday dinner, when the dining halls are closed, I’ll take you over to my house and make you dinner. Do like carrot cake? I make a mean carrot cake, too. Cream cheese icing? All from scratch, of course.”
“S-sounds like you’re quite the chef.”
“Well, it turns out that cooking and baking are a lot like chemistry. Well, technically, I found that out in the other order: that chemistry is a lot like cooking and baking. And magic is a lot like chemistry. It reminds me of this saying they have in psychology: ‘Psychology is really biology, biology is really chemistry, chemistry is really physics, physics is really math, and math really sucks.’ Now, that’s false, of course, because math is really awesome.” Tara laughed. “The rest, though, that all holds true.”
The conversation meandered for awhile before Willow looked around behind her (Tara sat with her back to the wall, just as she had the previous night) and, given no nearby eavesdroppers, related the story she’d heard last night: reports of Walsh’s death, Riley’s odd behavior, Buffy and Xander’s infiltration into the Initiative, Adam’s appearance, and Riley’s injury and presumed hospitalization in some unknown government facility.
“So, all in all, there’s a good chance that the spell wouldn’t have even helped last night, because there wasn’t a Polgara demon to be found. Buffy’s on patrolling hyper-drive looking for this thing, and it’s not like we have any way to research it. Then there’s the Initiative itself, which one of the scientists said isn’t out for Buffy or the rest of us, but Buffy won’t believe that until Riley’s released. So, we’re all staying at Xander’s still. Except since I have to be on campus all the time, I check in with Giles three times a day to let him know my plans, and if I need to go to Xander’s, he arranges for Buffy to meet me and she walks me. Otherwise, I’m responsible for staying safe on campus.”
“I-if you want to stay with me, you can.” Tara blushed and looked at the table. “I have a mostly empty drawer you can have.” The color in Tara’s cheeks reminded Willow of the first night she’d spent with Tara: how she’d wondered if Tara would offer her a drawer, of her certainty that their sleeping together would remain simply platonic. Her new uncertainty about just what kind of sleeping together they might do in the future reared its ugly head at the memory, and Willow shoved it away.
“That’d be great. Thanks.” Tara’s hand moved, and for a moment Willow thought Tara was reaching for hers, but instead she picked up her apple juice. They finished the rest of their meals in slightly uncomfortable silence. Willow couldn’t make up her mind as to whether it was Tara’s offer or her own acceptance that had changed the mood, but whatever it was, she hoped it stayed right here in the dining hall when they went back upstairs.
By the time they made it to Tara’s, Willow knew it was time for her to check in with Giles. What she didn’t know was if it was still okay to stay the night. Unfortunately, she couldn’t come up with a way to ask without bringing up that things had been uncomfortable.
“So,” Willow said once she pushed the door shut.
“So.”
“Are we . . .” Willow stopped to stare at her shoes. “Are we okay?” She held her breath.
Tara’s shoes came into view as Tara stepped quietly forward. “I-I’m okay if you’re okay.”
Slowly, Willow raised her head and let out her breath. Tara looked tense, but she held her head up. “Good, because I’m okay. I mean, if you’re okay. Then, then I’m okay.”
A small smile flickered on Tara’s face, but it left as soon as it appeared. “I’m uh, sorry. About earlier. If it, um, was presumptuous.”
“Tara?”
It was Tara’s turn to stare at her shoes. “I mean, I know o-offering you a drawer seems like a ‘couple’ thing, b-but I just want you to have somewhere you can actually rest.” Tara’s voice began to shake, but she continued. “I know this isn’t, um, dating. But, I’d have offered anyway. Even if we weren’t, uh, you know.”
“Tara.” Willow extended her arms cautiously, in hopes that Tara would accept a hug. She hated seeing Tara upset like this. Tara stepped forward into the embrace and Willow searched for answers as she held Tara close. What happened? Yesterday she made me lay out explicitly how I wanted to touch her. Before dinner she had me pressed up against the door and with the full-moon kisses. Now she can’t even say ‘kissing and stuff.’ What changed? We just went to dinner, where nothing happened . . . where I treated her like I used to. “Tara,” Willow whispered, “do you think that I’m ashamed about us touching?” Met with neither a nod nor a shake of the head, but a tightening of Tara’s grip, Willow continued. “I’m not. I’m sorry that I need this to be private right now, but it isn’t because I’m ashamed or embarrassed or anything.”
“Really?” Tara’s whisper barely made it to Willow’s ears.
“Really.” After Willow gave Tara a tight squeeze, she pulled back a bit and tipped Tara’s face up to look her in the eye, where Willow could see unshed tears pooled. “I care about you so much, and like I told you, I’m really interested in you, okay? You make me feel happy and safe and aroused and, yes, okay, confused, but never ashamed.” Tara shut her eyes, and Willow watched the tears run down her face. It hurt to see Tara cry, and Willow tried placing a light kiss on each of Tara’s eyelids. “Please Tara, you don’t have to cry. I’m sorry I made you sad.”
“Not sad, so much.” Tara slowly opened her eyes. “Afraid, really.”
“Well that’s silly,” Willow softly said as she brushed away Tara’s tears. “Because I am not in the least bit scary. I am the antithesis of scary.”
Tara smiled. “Th-that’s true.”
“If you want, I can call Giles, and tell him I’m staying on campus tonight. Then we can curl up in bed and snuggle or whatever you want. Okay?”
“I’d like that.” Willow pulled Tara tight again.
I’ve got you.
I know what that's like. (Like when I read "Van Rosenberg" it was as if the world stopped for two days.) Thanks so much for the kind words about my writing.
So much to love here. The kiss placed over Tara’s heart, Willow liking the feel of Tara’s skin, and the funny deal making; love’s awkward, endearing negotiations. Bit by by bit, Willow is inching along the road to revelation and you are creating an extraordinary journey.
