Queen of Hearts (Status report: 3 October 2013)

[BeMyDeputy]

@vampyregurl73 You win a shiny nickel!

@Everyone See, that was the start of a new chapter. Like a teaser. The first section of chapter 1 is short, too. Glad to know people like this enough to bitch that there isn't more. Well, this is neither short nor sweet, so I hope you're happy.

Just a quick warning, my classes start tomorrow, and then this Thursday I'm going to Seattle for PAX. I'll try not to leave it here until next week, but no promises.


Author: BeMyDeputy
Rating: PG-13 (language) for this section. Up to NC-17 for later installments Much later, so chill.
Feedback: Welcome.
Notes: The entirety of Chapter 2, including "In Which Willow and Tara Face Things They Would Rather Not" takes place during "The I in Team"
Spoilers: This is season 4. If you haven't seen season 4, what are you doing here? (Psst. Willow and Tara get together. Not here. But soon.)
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 willing to nitpick little shit. Which is incredibly awesome.


Chapter 2 Part 2: In Which Willow and Tara Face Things They Would Rather Not
aka In which there is angst.


“It's just that it's kind of a specific crowd and you might feel out of place.”

Tara felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach for the second time in as many minutes. ‘Away. I need away. Anywhere that’s away. Now.’

“I’d better get to class.” No, class wasn’t for forty-five minutes. Yes, Willow knew when her class started: the long break between her classes that was after Willow's last class that afternoon was why they’d made plans to meet in the first place. But it was the first destination that occurred to her. Tara stood, focused on the novel but urgent need to be far, far away from Willow. Tara heard Willow’s voice, but hurt too much to parse the sound into language. When the sound stopped, Tara nodded numbly, completely unaware of with what exactly she had agreed. Willow didn’t stop her departure, so if she had just called Tara on why she suddenly needed to be at class forty minutes early, she wasn’t doing anything about it.

On the off chance that Willow was watching her leave, Tara waited until she’d made a turn to break into a full run. Tara made it outside to the courtyard before realizing just why fleeing, panicked, through a college building was making her feel so much worse. The image of a dripping, recently-beating heart a mere two feet from her face flashed through her mind and the smell of blood and guts suddenly assaulted her; they felt as real as they had been all those weeks ago. Running had been a bad plan.

Abruptly, Tara turned and re-entered the building. Thankfully there was a women’s room next to the entrance. Tara wasn’t sure whether the past or present was throwing more fuel of the fire of her nausea. She waited in the bathroom stall she couldn’t remember navigating her way inside. She waited for the physical release of crying or vomiting. She waited for her body to eject something in a vain attempt to expel how she was feeling.

Nothing happened.

Her stomach cramped. Her eyes stung. But neither would cooperate in Tara’s effort to focus on any sensation aside from the pain in her chest.

Tara wanted to be at home. Her whole life she’d addressed problems by talking them out. Even when she was young and afraid to tell her mother that Donnie, not the stairs, was the reason for her limp, she dealt with things by talking them out alone in her room. She checked her pocket watch, depressed but unsurprised. The 35 minutes she had before she needed to get to class was an eternity to sit heartbroken in a bathroom, but a blink of an eye compared to the time it would take to go home, cry, deal, and prepare to go to class.

Certain though she was that she was quite alone in the restroom, the thought of locking the door to the room and trying to cope here never crossed her mind. Too many times she had thought she was alone in the barn or in the fields, only to be overheard by her brother.

Writing was the closest she was going to get to talking, so she pulled a notebook from the stack of books she’d somehow managed not to lose. As she flipped through in search of a blank page, Tara paused at the page she hoped she wouldn’t see: the page Willow had written out almost a week ago. She ran her fingers over the lines and shapes, heralding from across the globe and time, unified by their significance: Willow.

Tara felt the tears she had begged for just moments ago well up, but she no longer wanted them. Gingerly, she turned several pages in an effort to keep any tears that did fall from damaging that precious page. Though it hurt to look at it now, she knew she’d never forgive herself if let it get wet.

Tara drew two lines down the blank page in front of her. At the top of the left column she wrote, “1) Why did I offer her the crystal?” At the top of the center column she wrote, “2) Why didn’t she take the crystal? ” and the right column she entitled “3) Why does it hurt? The next page she bisected, creating the columns “4) Why didn’t she invite me to meet her friends?” and “5) Why does it hurt?”

Though the first page held the most important questions, Tara began on the second page: these questions were far easier to answer.

4) Why didn’t she invite me to meet her friends?
I don’t know.
She told me. She was worried I’d feel out of place.
Why would she think I would feel out of place?
She spent all week turning my room into a magically-impenetrable fortress, during which time you told her it’s the only place you feel safe.
I’d feel safe with her.
She doesn’t know that.
Rats.

5) Why does it hurt?
Because rejection sucks
Was she rejecting me? Or protecting me?
. . . Protecting.
Is protection the same as rejection?
No. . . . Smartass.
So why does it hurt?
Because I want to be a part of her life.
She spent all week with me. I AM a part of her life. Her high school friends are important to her, that’s probably who she meant. She should spend some time with them.
But I want to meet them.
Why?
We’re close. I should meet her friends.
Why?
Because . . . I want them to like me.
Riiight. And when she started flirting with me in front of her friends, what would I do?
Probably . . . die. They wouldn’t know it was a game.
So?
So I don’t want them to think she’s flirting with me for real.
Why?
Because it’s too hard not to take it seriously now. If they treated it like it was real, she’d explain it was a just a game. And that would hurt.
Why? You just said it was a game.
But I don’t want it to be a game.
You know she’s straight. She’d never flirt like that if she actually liked you; personal things like that make her uncomfortable like me leaving my room.
Yeah, but . . . that sucks.
Oh, no, I have a crush on a straight girl. Poor baby. Grow up! Every queer woman on the face of the planet has dealt with this. I’m a lesbian witch who hasn’t been burned at the stake, drowned, married off to some random guy regardless of my wishes, or thrown out of the house. I’m fucking lucky.
It’s not just a cru—
Yes, it is. All it’s ever going to be. She doesn’t like me. She’s not capable of liking me. What happened to the ‘get a rebound-esque girlfriend’ plan?
I don’t want a girlfriend who isn’t Wi-
Don’t even write it. Not going to happen. Also, if you write her name, she’ll find this and read it. Even if you shred it and then burn it. She’ll find a way.
But—
No. That lesbian alliance meets on Wednesdays. Go after your class.
I . . .
Just do it.

Tara frowned at the page. She knew she was right. But she didn’t like it. Once more she looked at her watch, but this time discovered she needed to go to class. After a moment of staring at the page of more important questions, she scribbled Because the past week has felt so close to dating I don’t like being reminded it isn’t. And that fucking sucks across the page, covering all three columns. She ripped both pages out of her notebook, and shoved them into her back pocket. That ‘shred then burn’ plan sounded like a good one.

*****

Tara was leaving forty minutes before she needed to in order to make it to her class. That was bad.

Tara wouldn’t look her in the eye. That was very bad.

“I'll see you later, okay?”

Tara nodded, but continued to walk off.

‘She’s hurting. She’s hurting, and it’s my fault.’ Tara had looked so . . . broken. Willow had never seen Tara like that. Though she’d tried to laugh off the situation before she left, it felt totally wrong. ‘That wasn’t smiling. I’ve seen her smile. I’ve spent all week playing ‘Make Tara Smile.’ And winning.’ Sure, both corners of her mouth had strained upwards, but there was no joy in it. Tara looked at her when she smiled. Her eyes didn’t dart around the room like something was going to come up and smack her when she smiled. That ... that wasn’t smiling.

Willow watched helplessly as Tara disappeared around a corner. For a moment, she was tempted to chase after her. ‘And say what, exactly? ‘I know you told me how you don’t feel secure outside of your room, and I thought I’d use that highly private knowledge to crush you in public?’ Yeah, that’d go over well.’ Or, ‘you know, you told me you were a totally different person in public, and it turns out I’m a dummy and don’t know how to talk to you; could you find a translator and tell you I’m really, really sorry I made you sad.’ That would make things better. Wait, no, worse. I keep getting those confused.'

‘Why didn’t she suggest any other night?!’ She wished desperately that she could have taken Tara up on her offer, or simply bring Tara with her tonight. But Scooby-time was what the deal the group had all made.

‘Well, that was a blossoming friendship, until I screwed it up. With my luck, I’ve upset her and she’ll never want to see me again.’ Willow bemoaned. ‘I saw she was upset, and instead of just saying I was busy, and that tomorrow would be better and shutting my damn fool mouth, I point out that I was specifically not inviting her to meet other friends of mine.

‘No. I’m going to make this up to her. I want this to work. I need this to work.’ Tara was the one person she could talk to about magic, and now that Riley was monopolizing Buffy, and Xander was impossible to speak to without Anya around, spending time with Tara above and beyond shop talk was increasingly appealing. Plus, Tara was simply a pleasure to be around.

Willow looked up, surprised to notice a wood door labeled 214 in front of her; she hadn't consciously decided to go home.

Every time she went thought about how Tara looked, the knot in her stomach got bigger. This feeling of grief over hurting Tara had felt achingly familiar from the moment Tara departed, but she couldn’t place it until she stumbled into her empty room.

The fluke fallout.

That’s where she’d felt this before. Her knees barely lasted the short walk to the bed. The look on Oz’s face . . . when Willow played that memory, the knot in her stomach, the guilt at causing that pain, they felt the same. There was a high degree of overlap for the satellite feelings as well: the dread of potential loss, the knowledge that she was the one in the wrong, the overpowering desire to go back in time and take it back, because whatever consequences there existed for messing up a timeline were surely worth relieving the victims of her cruelty of their pain.

‘Okay, now I know where I know this feeling from . . . but why should I be feeling it again now? Yes, I’m upset that I hurt Tara; I don’t want to see her hurting. Guilt, sure: totally comprehensible. But I was dating Oz. I’m not dating Tara. We’ve talked about the fact we’re not dating every day for a week. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. Gut-wrenching guilt about my being . . . well, a total bitch, yes. But I shouldn’t be feeling this. It doesn’t add up.’

Willow knew she needed some quality best friend time to sort this out.. Maybe Buffy could help her figure out why there’s this strange overlap from the fluke fallout. She glanced at the clock. It was 4:30, and she wasn’t supposed to meet Buffy and Xander at the Bronze until 8:00. ‘Over three hours? I don’t want to fret over this for the next three and a half hours.’

Buffy would be out with Riley this time of day; at least, if the rotation of the Earth was any indication. Maybe she could talk to Xander about this. Willow picked up the phone, and dialed Xander’s number.

“Harris residence, Anya speaking.” Fuck. Anya. Willow did not want to talk to Anya. If Anya was there, chances where Xander would be busy until tonight as well.

“Uh, hi Anya. Is Xander there?” She could have just hung up, but she’d spent too much time today being socially inept.

“If he weren’t here, would I bother answering the phone? His parents can deal with the phone.”

“I guess not.”

“Was that all?”

“Uh, no, I was hoping to actually talk to Xander. Would you put him on? Please?”

“Why didn’t you just say so? XANDER! Willow wants you. It had better not be in a sexy way.” Willow pulled the receiver away from her head a moment too late; Anya just hadn’t managed to learn to pull the phone away from her mouth when shouting.

“Hey Will, what’s up?”

“Hey, I was just wondering what your plans were before we Bronze it up tonight?”

“Uh, well, Anya and I were going to have dinner in a bit here, then we’re going shopping, and then meeting you and Buff at the Bronze. You got trouble?”

“Shopping!? Xander, I thought you said we were having--”

“Anya! Not now! So . . . Will, please tell me we’re not spending the night in the cemetery or Giles’ instead of at the Bronze. I haven’t seen Buffy in weeks. That, and there are very few potential Boost Bar buyers in either of those places.”

“No, no trouble. I was just wondering if you wanted to hang . . . . “ She sighed. “You go sex up your woman. I’ll see you tonight.

“Thanks for understanding, Will; you’re the best. We can hang this weekend. We could rent a Bollywood film, and you can explain what’s going on every ten minutes. It’ll be like old times.”

“That sounds great, Xander. We can talk about it tonight, okay? Enjoy your shopping trip. Be careful with the spankin’ new merchandise.”

“Willow Rosenberg! Did you just—you just—“ Xander sputtered.

“Bye Xand.” She hung up, Xander still floundering on the other end of the line.

“Well, that was a bust,” Willow announced to the empty room. “At least tonight I’ll have time to talk to Buffy when Xander and Anya go dance, and then after when we come home.”

Willow pulled out her C++ homework, remembering Buffy’s advice from last year: “focus on school. That's the strong Willow way to heal.”

[edob]

like this very, very much.

[LonelyTara]

Aw, it was pretty sad. It's very cool to see Tara walking herself through her reactions, the unintentional torture Willow is putting her through. Can't wait to read the next update, and can't wait to see what leads up to smoochin!

[vampyregurl73]

Ahhhh, young love. Lesbian falls for straight girl or at least one that thinks she is, only to realize, "hmmmm, maybe not so much", and all the joy of gettin there,

[Morrigan]

Oh, the dance of I-know-she-can't-love-me-but-I-can't-help-myself. And looking forward to Tara discovering that sometimes, it is absolutely marvelous to be wrong.

[DaddyCatALSO]

.And it took me two days to put those comments together.

[BeMyDeputy]

Which two?

[DaddyCatALSO]

Umm, sorry, that was supposed to be 5 paragraphs of comments.
Got erased soemhow.

I was saying I admired how these are so integrated into the episode sequence, gives it a real feel that we're seeing it as it's being lived, even 10 years later. (By comparison to my own S-4 fics, which have vague settings.)

I also like the thought processes on both sides; a lot of people need to fool themselves about any number of things just to get thru the day, and the honesty Willow and Tara have shown with each other here means they don't have that crutch. Leading to good things later as we've seen *grin, but so hard for them now *tear.

I udnerstand why Willow isn't ready to introduce Tara to the gang, not as clear on why she refused the crystal.

I admire Willow's principles in the card game, and how Tara's actions inadvertently helped her, so fittingly. I have an original chatracter in my ficverse, Cutter the rogue demon hunter, who is shameless about that sort of thing. He not only uses his psychic pwoers to win cash at the track and casinos, but uses them to invest the moeny thru insider trading; he calls it a "demon suppresion services tax." He's an outrageous Mary Sue so I seldom bring him on-stage. (He was married to a distant identical cousin, if that makes any sense, of Tara's, and went all Batman after she died.)

[JustSkipIt]

Hi There,
I'm caught up now and so glad that I did. I don't usually read between the scenes fics but quite honestly, seeing who your beta was sort of made me take a second look. I really enjoy your writing style. It's really refreshing to see a pretty healthy Tara as the pov for a s4 fic. She mentions Donnie and the stairs but also mentioned that he helped her with her room so it doesn't seem like the stereotypical abuse situation that we see so often. She seems very self-confident (at least in her room I guess). I love her honesty and her deals that she offers in terms of she'll say if she can't take it and Willow should say if she gets interested. I'm thinking that will be a very cute conversation. I enjoy the exposition style you're using to let us see some of her thought-process as well. First it was the conversation with her mom and then the writing it out in the bathroom. Quite well done.

There's a little part of me that thinks Willow's being a bit of an unnecessary tease but the bigger part of me thinks that Tara can handle that herself or she'll call it all off. I'm looking forward to more.

Well, I need to finish breakfast and shower before work. Have a great day!

[BeMyDeputy]

Here's my last five minutes:

Writing writing writing. Okay, There's that Willow line I was building up to, time to go get that earlier draft out and lift Tara's reaction because I liked how that was written.

Word is loading, I'll see if I have any more comments. Refresh forum index.

Ooh! Better! JustSkipIt posted something. Man, I totally just got that name like a few days ago, despite having read all her[?] stuff months ago. Makes me feel silly, as that speech is so damn informative about Tara's character and I've watched it on repeat more times than I'd like to admit. Well, the speech and the smoochies.. I wonder if it's a new stor--

OMG MY STORY IS RED.

Not gonna fangirl, not gonna fangirl. I've met Wil Wheaton and Felicia Day (and the rest of The Guild cast) and I'm going to an Among the Ghosts signing the 19th. I can fail to fangirl.

OMFG SHE LIKES MY STORY.

Breathe, Katie.

Anyway, yes dlline is a fucking amazing beta reader, particularly if you're looking for an actual editor, rather than a pat on the head. I'm actually trying to convince her to be meaner.

I could gush about why I think canon season four is an amazing writing exercise, but I think I've done that before. In summary, I like it a lot, but only if the characters and the relationship we see in seasons five and six are sensical extensions of season four.

My character notes on Donnie are basically "a stupid version of Peter Wiggin. Cruel, occasionally violent; asshole not hellspawn."

I'm glad you like that she talks to her mom/writes out a conversation with herself. I put a lot of effort in nailing how I think Tara thinks, but I didn't want to just write 2000 words of internal monologue. Framing it as a conversation, even with only one participant, made it a lot more interesting to write, and I think a lot less dreary to read. Her strength isn't flawless, of course; but she's a lot more resilient than a lot of season four impressions of Tara are.

Willow has trouble being too much of a tease because she's really flirting. It just hasn't dawned on her that that's what she's doing; it feels right and natural so she does it. Much as I adore WIllow, she has never been good at seeing things from other people's perspective. Pressing Oz in "The Wish" is a really clear early example of this.


Oh, yeah, I was writing the next chapter. I should get back to that.

EDIT: DING! I've been promoted. Muah hah hah. Suck it, wannabe status.

[angieb86]

I'm loving this story so far; Most people (well, most of the people that I know) did not enjoy the fourth season of Buffy, but it's definitely one of my favorites. Watching that season helped me a lot through my freshman year of college...and also got me my first girlfriend. We were the Willow and Tara of the university campus...until Oz came back. Obviously...she chose him. Bitch.

The last post you made really has me giggling hysterically. Really, the people I'm working with are looking at me funny. Come to think of it...so are some of the customers.
Note to self: Stop reading fanfic while leaning on the frozen yogurt counter. People don't like it when you laugh and snort over their sundaes and banana splits.

And I hope you have fun at the 'Among the Ghosts' signing! I won't be able to go since I live on the opposite side of the country, but I totally ordered my signed copy last week. I want to throw an 'Among the Ghosts' party, but let's face it: Down here in Memphrica, there aren't nearly enough Amberholics for me!

Anygay, I can't wait for the next update!!

[BeMyDeputy]

Everyone, I'm home from PAX and exhausted. I'd love to come up with thoughtful, gracious responses to everyone, but dammit it's bed time. It was a working trip, and I brought home lots of work and I have school; my update rate is going to remain slower then at first, maybe once or twice a week. In sum, I love you all, thanks for reading, and extra bonus thanks for leaving feedback.

I know I have left why Willow doesn't take the crystal and Willow finding out what the reminder actually says alone for this chapter, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten them. But before sleepy time, there is story time!


Author: BeMyDeputy
Rating: PG-13 (language) for this section. Up to NC-17 for later installments Much later, so chill.
Feedback: Welcome.
Notes: The entirety of Chapter 2, including "In Which Willow Keeps her Promise" takes place during "The I in Team"
Spoilers: This is season 4. If you haven't seen season 4, what are you doing here? (Psst. Willow and Tara get together.)
Content disclaimer (this section): Violence: No. Sex: No. Angst: Kinda?
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 also likes MS Word's comment system, which makes editing way easier for everyone.

Oh, and I switched from single quotes to italics for thoughts, since apparently the former was hard to read.

Chapter 2 Part 3: In Which Willow Keeps her Promise
a.k.a. In which the cluestick swings and connects

Willow began to speak, but the carefully rehearsed words pouring out of her mouth weren’t the focus of her attention. No, the important thing at the moment was trying to judge how Tara was feeling.

Okay, so, surprise, that makes sense, she shouldn’t expect to see me, as I ditched her this afternoon. Bad me. And there’s mild amuseme—ooh, hopeful! I like hopeful. Hopeful means she hasn’t given up on my dumb butt. But she’s still using the door as a shield. Well, here goes nothing.

“Anyway, I know it's late, but I thought... I mean, if you still wanted to... do something.”

Sayyessayyespleaseohplea—see, now that is Tara smiling. Full on beaming. Dimples and everything. Man, her dimples are really adorable.

Tara opened the door, and Willow followed her into the room; though she knew she still had major league apologizing to do, just being in Tara’s room put her at ease.

Screw the Bronze. Here, this space: this is my place-blanky.

As soon as she entered, Willow’s eyes landed on the doll’s eye crystal on Tara’s dresser, sitting next to a deck of cards. She hadn’t seen either of them out before, but somehow they felt familiar. Guilt beat out any curiosity as to why.

“Listen, Tara, about today . . . .” Willow gestured at Tara’s bed, and they sat down.

“I-it’s okay. I was out of line. My problem, totally.”

“What? You’re kidding, right?” She pressed on without waiting for an answer. “No, Tara, I was a total, well, bitch. I wanted you to come meet my friends, really I did. We’ve known each other a long time and I want them to like you. It’s just . . . it was supposed to be just the four of us, and I didn’t want you to get off on the wrong foot with them. Xander’s girlfriend can be really mean, and I didn’t want to give her an excuse to start in on you. And Buffy’s just really good at putting her foot in her mouth. I was going to ask if you were free tomorrow night, but I was too busy talking myself into a deeper hole, which I’m doing again now . . . .”

“L-look, I shouldn’t have just taken off like that. You didn’t do anything wrong, Willow.”

“But . . . you ran away. I made you leave.” The rawness in her own voice served as a visceral reminder as to just how badly she’d been hurting over the afternoon’s events. Willow reached to take Tara’s hand, but Tara got up and began to pace around the room.

“No, I made me leave. It was dumb. It’s okay now.”

“Hey—how you feel is never dumb. Can’t we just . . . talk about what happened?” Tara was being evasive. Willow could see it in the way Tara wrapped her arms around herself. She looked just like she had the first time Willow saw her in the Wicca group, and it scared her.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Of course I do. I hate that I made you feel like you had to leave, even if you think it’s dumb. I don’t want to do it again.”

“It really isn’t your fault.”

“Tara, I’ve spent the past six hours feeling like shit for what happened. That’s not going to just go ‘poof’ because you say it isn’t my fault.”

“I don’t know . . . .”

“Tara. You can tell me anything.”

“Fine . . . .” Tara took a deep breath. “I-it’s just that the last week, you being here every night, you sleeping over twice, how . . . intense it is when you’re here, you flirting all the time . . . even though I know it isn’t, i-it feels a lot like dating. And I know it isn’t. But some part of me forgot this afternoon. Then when we talked . . . it broke the illusion.” Tara stopped, and turned to look down at Willow; Willow had never seen Tara look desperate before. “But please, I wouldn’t change how our friendship works for the world. So I don’t want you to feel like the banter or anything has to stop. I have a pl--”

Willow guiltily rushed to Tara and threw her arms around her. “I am so, so sorry. I’m . . . I’m a moron. I never bothered to think about how maddening this must be for you. You’re sure you don’t want me to slow down, give you some space.” Willow tried to move enough to study Tara’s face. She didn’t get far before she felt fingers digging into the small of her back.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not going away.” Willow pulled Tara in close, but never broke eye contact. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Easier to do when I can see your face.” She gently ran a finger down Tara’s nose, the tip of which she gave a gentle poke.

“Better since you said you weren’t going. But I don’t suppose you’d be willing to not go from the bed? Standing doesn’t sound like such a great plan anymore.”

“Sure. Here, you sit down, and I’ll get you some juice. I can say from personal experience that your juice has excellent healing powers. Okay?”

Tara nodded and slowly let Willow go. “If my juice was sufficient to help you out, then it’s far and away enough for this.”

Willow waited for Tara to pull completely away of her own volition before moving herself. A moment later, Willow handed her a full cup. “One glass of Tara-brand heal-y juice.” Willow moved to sit next to Tara on the bed, but stopped herself. “Um, where do you want me to sit? I’ll sit anywhere you want including on the floor in that corner, or I could stand or--”

Tara shook her head, and grabbed Willow’s wrist. Willow let Tara guide her to the middle of the bed, behind where Tara was sitting. She wrapped Willow’s arms around her waist. Tara leaned back into Willow, and turned her head towards Willow’s face.

“I want you to sit right here.” With that Tara dropped her cheek onto Willow’s shoulder.

“Okay, I know I said I’d sit anywhere, and I am perfectly happy to sit here. But . . . this isn’t going to make you crazy?” Please say no. You’re all soft and comfy and your breath on my neck is all warm and tingly and I don’t want to move.

“I want you to know I’m serious that I don’t want things to change. Besides, I’m working on a plan. I went the lesbian alliance group today after class.”

“Yeah? Looking for other cute girls to commiserate with?”

“Uh--”

“Right, right, ‘with whom to commiserate.’ Damn grammar Nazi. Yeesh, add that to the list of things my father should never hear me say.”

“Good catch, but I was actually going to say I was looking for cute girls to date.”

Despite a solid grasp of physics insisting it was impossible, Willow was certain that the room’s temperature was currently oscillating between freezing and boiling.

Date? But . . . my Tara. Not some random lesbian’s Tara. Mine.

“So, any cute witches at your lesbian group?” Willow eeked out as nonchalantly as an individual plunged into a crazy room whose temperature changes were clearly in violation of multiple laws of thermodynamics could hope to manage.

“Cute, sure, but witches, no.” Tara chuckled. “Better than the Wicca group; they consistently bat zero for two, straight and queer alike.” Willow felt Tara lean further into her chest. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Absently, Willow brought her finger up to where Tara’s breath was making her neck feel all tingly.

I don’t get it. Touching Tara makes me feel all tingly because of the magic connection. Why should her breathing on me feel tingly? The tingly comes from the magic, I know it does. See, we can test it.

“Give me your hand.”

“Uh . . . okay . . . .” Despite the confusion in Tara’s voice, Willow felt Tara’s hand gently clasp hers. “What’s up?”

“Just running a quick experiment. Don’t mind me.”

Okay, tingly, check. Now for the variable. This should feel the same.

“Bring us that deck of cards.” She pointed at the cards she’d noticed when she came in. When Tara moved to get up, Willow held her in place. “No, use magic. That’s part of the experiment.”

“Okaaaay.” The cards floated across the room to Tara’s free hand. Willow felt a quite distinct jolt go through their joined hands.

Wait just a plank second here. That’s magic tingly . . . which is different than touching Tara tingly . . . and Tara’s breath on my neck tingly.

Willow stared at the deck of cards, trying to put together what corollaries to her faulty assumption needed to be revised. After a moment, she was distracted as she registered the identity of the top card.

“You have my card.” Willow tapped the top of the deck.

“W-what?”

“This card. I played poker last night. I almost had a royal flush. This is the card I was missing.”

“That’s . . . I’m sorry your hand didn’t work out?” Willow heard the confusion in Tara’s voice, but was too preoccupied to address it.

“It’s just weird. I literally prayed for this card, and now it’s here—no. I didn’t technically pray for the queen of hearts. I prayed for the . . . heart . . . I . . . .”

[blockquote] “I implore you, Neisa, blessed goddess of chance and fortune, heed my call: Send to me the heart I desire.”

“Of course. I like it when you smile. It’s pretty.”

Willow was on her hands and knees, one hand on either side of Tara’s head. She was leaning down low, so that only about six inches separated their faces.

The fluke fallout. That’s where she’d felt this before.

‘Man, her dimples are really adorable.’

‘Please say no. You’re all soft and comfy and your breath on my neck is all warm and tingly and I don’t want to move.’ [/blockquote]

Oh. Ohhhhhhhhh. Huh.

“Hey Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember the magic words?”

“Wingardium Leviosa?”

“No, before that.”

“Abracadabra?”

“No.” Dammit, it was her deal.

“Uh . . . please?”

“Now you’re not even trying.”

“Willow, please. It’s late. I’ve had a stressful day. I’ve already had about as much deciphering social code as I can take. Whatever it is, just say it.”

“I’m interested in you.”

[Mrs. Pineapple]

Oh yeah
Go Willow finally figuring things out. About time too.
But it was really evil to stop right there! *crosses arms and pouts*

Please update soon?

[LonelyTara]

Suuuuuhhhh--weet! What a great way to start the day!! I can't wait to read the next chapter. I'm jealous you got to go to PAX, even if it was for work. Did you get to hear any cool speakers? Wait, forget all that, get back to writing you!

I had to come back to this after re-reading for the third time, and give you huge, huge kudos on Willow's POV for this chapter. This is exactly how I would imagine Willow working through this, in the scenario that you've set. Really, really well done.

Oh. Ohhhhhhhhh. Huh.

Genius. Really, it's just so Willow.

[vampyregurl73]

Give the girl a lollipop! Cute how she figured it out though, and her flash of paranoia/jealousy might have helped to get that flickering bulb to stay on.

[arsyadriani]

you got my hopes up high..then you crashed it down with the cliffhanger. it's so not nice to leave my-fast beating heart hanging
really can't wait for the next..
soon? please?

[bloodynails]

I stumbled upon the Kitten, the Witches and the Bad Wardrobe Forums in general and upon your story in particular only yesterday, and decided to register just so I could say: great work!

I've always thought Willow and Tara were a great couple, but had never really tried to read fics about them till very recently (which I guess explains my not knowing about this site), when re-watching Buffy made miss them and, well, here I am.

And I've got to say, I love how you're handling this story! The writing is great, and both Willow and Tara are very in character.

Hope you update soon! Specially since ending this last part this way was just cruel (the good kind of cruel, mind you. )

[JustSkipIt]

I've been waiting for the title section. Quite honestly, your writing is simply too good for the title to be random. This tied in so very well. I also like that you switched the pov to Willow's but it seemed very seamless. I didn't even really register the way you had switched to her pov and were showing her thought process until I was most of the way through. And what a lovely thought process it is. Her test was adorable and those magic words... Lovely.

[ShesaGoddess]

Hey, I just caught up with your story, and I must say, I'm loving it!
Now, I'm not too good with the whole feedback thing, so I'm just gonna leave it 'at I love your writing, please keep it up'!

[DaddyCatALSO]

Yes, Willow, plain words are helpful, but then agin, they can be such tricky things to come up with.

[vazy]

Oh Magic words are magic

[lonelylanding]

i hope that you update really soon!

[mishki]

Yum! I love checking up on a story and finding a whole passel of updates to devour. This is such a cute story; I love your W&T and their dialogue. You're doing a great job of keeping the flirt-o-meter high without jumping right to smoochville. Le sigh. Looking forward to more soon!

[BeMyDeputy]

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.

[lonelylanding]

yay an update!

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... Big yay for new moon kisses and Willow telling about Scoobies, vampires, demons and Oz's werewolfhood... I hope Tara very soon returns the favor and tells about her comming "demonhood"...

[Agilulfa]

Very nice update! I must say it made me appreciate my philosopy lessons much more and gave a new alluring reason not to forget the myth of the cave... anyway, I'm really enjoying this story, I'm sorry that I haven't replied before and I hope you'll keep writing!

[DaddyCatALSO]

Very well-paced, and believeable thought processes. (I know what it means when you've been taught not to believe your own eyes and soemthign happens that's outside your defined ideas; quite plausible tara woudl think she was dreaming.) And truly delicious Willow-speeches that weren't exactly babble, and the more effective for it.

Yes, Tara, imagination can make up for a good bit of missed experience - I know because a couple women back in the 80s said things to me similar to what Willow told you she was surprised about.

[LonelyTara]

Absolutely adorable, fantastic job on the communication and stirrings of passion and affection between these two! I can't wait to see what lessons Tara and Willow will have in store for each other next, and I think it will be hilarious to see how quickly Willow picks up Greek....

[morningstar]

This story is absolutely wonderful!

It is also a horrible story to read when you are seriously crushing on what is most likely a totally straight girl.

I really liked the way you used the moon phases to describe the types of kisses and it also took me a moment to realize what Willow was talking about when she started randomly mentioning the moon.