Chance
Feedback: If you want.
Rating: umm… I’m gonna say PG-13.
Pairing: W/T (duh)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I’m in so much debt, I owe my organs to people. So I definitely don’t own Willow or Tara, regardless of those dreams I have sometimes… Nevermind. Sorry. Do I have to change the rating for allusions? Anyway, yeah, they’re all Joss Whedon’s. Talk to him about it. Rodgers and Hart wrote “I Could Write A Book”. I’m jealous. But they did it, it’s theirs, totally not mine.
Note: Songfic, weak small songfic. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s one of my favorite songs, so I had to jam it in somewhere. I’m bad, stop me now. Oh! And I need a break from the stripper fic for a bit. Sorry.
Willow pulled Tara in close, wrapping her arms securely around the blond’s waist. She inhaled deeply, still overwhelmed by the scent of her girlfriend. It had been a full year, but still that scent was new to her. It was like that with Tara though. With Oz, it had been familiar, routine. With Tara, it felt like every day dawned and set because she was near. Willow felt like if Tara weren’t in her life, time for her would stop, slow to a halt, never to start again without the light of her smile. She pulled her girlfriend closer; the music filled the air.
“If they asked me, I could write a book,
About the way you talk, and whisper and look…”
Willow saw a montage in her mind. Tara’s lopsided grin, perfect in form, adorable in presentation, heart-wrenching in distance burned at the back of her eyelids. Through just awoken eyes, Tara’s sleeping expression, her arm snaked tightly around Willow’s waist – as if to keep her from falling. The look of Tara’s hair fanned out over Willow’s favorite pillow. Tara approaching Willow after her morning class like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Tara’s face by candlelight, her expression when she told Willow that she loved her. She heard Tara’s voice… “Yours.” Felt the warm breath escaping Tara’s lips as they whispered to each other in the dark of the dorm rooms. The moan that catches in Tara’s throat as their love overflowed. Willow knew her Tara. Willow loved her Tara. Had it really been a year? Why did it feel like a day and a night?
“I could write a preface on how we met,
So the world would never forget…”
Willow smiled at the lyrics, leaning her cheek against Tara’s. That first night with The Gentlemen, hands found each other, the magnetism of the touch. The shy awkward approach they both took towards each other, first as friends, then as lovers. The first night they made love – the tentative touches, gentle caresses, the uncertainty in their eyes, the reassurance they found in each other. Willow knew then how much she had been denying herself, how futile her protests to her emotions actually were. She was in love with the most perfect, most beautiful woman in the world, and she wanted everyone in the world to know it.
“And the simple secret of the plot,
is just to tell them, that I love you a lot…”
Every time Willow closed her eyes and imagined a future, Tara was the one she was with. Willow had dreamt of their first home together, dreamt of holiday parties at the Summer’s home, dreamt of a life that was intertwined with the girl’s in her arms. Willow sunk deeper into her girlfriend’s arms, totally enthralled in her thoughts. And all she could think was how much better life is with Tara. For Willow, Tara was the promise of a near perfect life, Tara was the promise of happiness.
“And the world discovers, as my book ends,
how to make two lovers of friends.”
Even better, Tara was the promise of life. A life filled with really living, of near perfect moments, and relief from the days that just went wrong. For Willow, Tara was existing.
“I love you.” Willow looked up into Tara’s eyes with a most penetrating gaze, seemingly conveying all she had been thinking.
Tara smiled softly. “I know.”
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Be gentle, I bruise easily.
-Chance
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"I don't smoke, you don't drink, and Bob here tries not to lust after women, between the three of us, we're f*cking Jesus."
"I can see sometimes you don't want anything, I can see sometimes you don't want me, just love me the times that I need you, If you say that that I am still free."
