**GayNow: Sorry about the lateness of the reply. I kept telling myself I'd just wait until I had the next vignette done, and then it took me six months to write it - who knew? I'm very glad you enjoyed each vignette - it's always wonderful to have new people find this little series of mine, though, I don't think not reading my vignettes makes people bad kittens. I'm always flattered (in a guilt-ridden kind of way
) when someone puts off everything to read my fic. I'm well aware of just how good a fic has to be to get me to drop everything and read it, and the idea that someone is sitting down and going through all of these unrelated little stories is a very special thing to hear. So, thank you.
**everyone - sorry it took me so long to write this. I've had this particular idea for a vignette kicking around in the back of my head for quite awhile - possibly years - and have started writing it on three ... count them, three! ... different computers. I'm actually home sick from work today - nothing serious, just the achy-stuffy-very-slightly-feverish yucks - and found the first few paragraphs of my latest attempt at this vignette hiding on my hard drive, and thought I'd finish it. If it's terrible, I blame the liqui-gel-whatever that I took .. if it's great, all credit deserves to go to
http://www.angelalansbury.net. I also wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who reads this stuff, lurker or no, because I very much appreciate every little tick on the view counter. I also want to thank xita and the moderators for all the work they do - Pens is my favorite place on the internet, and even when I don't have time to read or write fic, the fact that I know it's always here, and that I can always come back, makes it a little like home
So, in case anyone's wondering - life at work is still busy, but nowhere near like it was. At this point, a 40-hour workweek is like a vacation. Still, I'm a little mentally tuckered, so I tend to spend my not-at-work time playing video games (I'm on my 5th runthrough of kotorII and it still makes no sense - I hate it when game companies release a video game this just isn't finished). I also have some original story ideas kicking around in my head that, while still in the 'concept' stage, I'm very excited about, so that's taking away from my fic-writing-time. As always, when inspiration strikes, I'll be posting as much W/T fic as I can - so thank you all for still reading, even though I don't write nearly as much.
-Sass
Series: Vignettes
Number: 45
Title: Getting To Know You
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.com , or posted here.
Spoiler Warning: Well, it’s spoilery if you didn’t know that Tara is gay, in which case I’ve already ruined the ending and won’t be able to get into the whole exciting middle part with the French Resistance. Occurs sometime S4.
Summary: Willow and Tara sit around chatting and not casting spells.
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters. I’m just borrowing them, because it’s lots and lots of fun.
Rating: PG-13
Getting To Know You
Part 45 of the Vignettes Series
By Sassette
Tara opened the door without hesitation upon hearing the bold knock. She wasn’t expecting anyone, exactly, but the odd little thrill of anticipation fluttering in her tummy told her who was on the other side of the door. Well, that in addition to the fact that no one else had ever knocked on her door. But between these two facts, she knew that knocking could only be Willow.
And there she was, standing there with a cute little smile, fidgeting a little, though whether that was nerves or excitement, Tara had no idea. She could easily find out – could find out easier than asking, but that was invasive, and she didn’t look at people without their knowledge. It was a rule, and as far as Tara was concerned, magick was all about rules.
Of course, there were those little twinges she got. Feelings, mostly, when she knew something was going to happen, and that special tingly feeling when she knew that Willow was going to happen. She had, of course, thought that the sensation was due to the anticipation of a planned magick get-together, until the first time Willow had just shown up at her door unannounced, and Tara had had that feeling all day.
So, now she was aware of the feeling, and what it meant, and here was Willow, just like she’d expected.
“Um, H-hi,” Tara said, smiling broadly – totally unself-conscious about her stutter in front of the one person who had never, even once, made Tara feel bad about it - as she held the door open wider, allowing Willow to bounce into the room. Willow had a pad of paper in her hand, clutched to her chest, as if keeping it safe.
“I know we don’t have plans,” Willow started without preamble, and Tara bit her lip to keep from laughing. Willow stopping in unexpectedly – except for that little tingly feeling – was becoming a more and more frequent occurrence, and every single time, she’d start the visit with an apology, and a long ramble about not wanting to be rude, and how she wasn’t assuming that Tara didn’t already have plans, and on and on for a little while before they got down to practicing whatever new spell Willow had found.
The truth was, on the occasions when Tara had plans, but also had that fluttery Willow-feeling, she’d break them.
Not that she’d tell Willow that. The revelation that Tara was gay was a fairly new one tossed into the middle of their friendship, and Tara didn’t want Willow to take it the wrong way.
Which was to say, she didn’t want Willow to know that she had this really intense and totally outrageous crush on her, and that she spent all of her spare time, and quite a bit of her not-spare time, thinking about Willow.
Because then things would be awkward. At least, Willow would be awkward, because Tara knew she, herself, already felt a little awkward around Willow. That was part of the whole “outrageous crush” thing. But Willow was never awkward around Tara, except in the adorably goofy way that Willow was just naturally a little awkward, and Tara really liked that. So many people were unsure of what to make of Tara, she knew, because Tara was so unsure, and so shy, and so quiet. But not Willow. If Willow was feeling unsure, she’d just ask.
“So, if you have orphans to save, I absolutely won’t stop you, and I’d even like to help, because, y’know, orphans in peril, bad - saving orphans yay! Unless you have ‘alone-time orphan-saving’ to do, or even ‘specific group that doesn’t involve Willow orphan-saving’. So, do you have plans?”
“Umm, no,” Tara said, shaking her head with a little smile. She’d been lost in her thoughts, and had missed that particular version of the ‘I know we don’t have plans’ speech – which was never the same twice – and wondered where the orphans in mortal peril thing came in. “No orphans in, umm, mortal peril that, uh, require saving. And, umm, I’d take you w-with me. I think you’d, umm, you’d be good at saving orphans.”
“Great!” Willow said, sitting comfortably cross-legged on the end of Tara’s bed, and letting her notepad fall into her lap.
“Is that a, umm … is that a new spell?” Tara asked curiously, walking over and tilting her head kind of sideways to read what would be upside-down writing to her.
“Nope,” Willow said cheerfully, wiggling from side to side a little and smiling. “It’s a game.”
“A game?”
“Yes,” Willow said nodding. “It’s the ‘Getting To Know You’ game. I invented it,” she said proudly, puffing up her chest and feigning a look of snooty importance.
“There’s, umm … no, uh, math, right?” Tara asked with a grin, sitting next to Willow on the end of the bed when Willow patted the spot next to her.
“No math. Though there is a pop quiz at the end.”
“H-how can it, umm … be a pop quiz if you, uh, w-warned me about it? W-wouldn’t that be a kind of, umm … not popping quiz? Like a ‘sitting quietly and, um politely …quiz?” Tara said, wincing a little as she reviewed her words and deciding that her joke wasn’t funny.
“Good point,” Willow said, her brow furrowing, and a little smile quirked her lips. “I guess we can skip the quiz, because who goes and picks up a quiz that’s just sitting there quietly and politely? Nobody ever takes a quiz unless it pops up right in their face.”
“So, umm … this game?” Tara said, gesturing at Willow’s notebook.
“Right! The game!” Willow said, pulling her head away from pondering quizzes in all states of being and back to the subject at hand. “I realized the other day, y’know, when you said you were gay that I don’t really know all that much about you, and you don’t really know all that much about me, either, so I came up with a series of very important questions to ask you. In return, I shall also answer each of these questions. Then you get to ask one, and we both answer it. Okay?”
“W-well, there’s umm … there’s not much to know, y’know?” Tara said, shrugging a little and looking down, but moving to sit on the bed opposite Willow anyway, because she knew that if Willow wanted to ask her a bunch of deep and meaningful questions, she’d do her best to answer them, even if she had to make up an answer because the truth wasn’t something she could say.
“Of course there’s tons to know!” Willow immediately insisted. “I mean, on one level, I already know everything about you,” Willow said, switching gears as her voice became hesitant. “It’s like – when we cast spells together, I see you. I really see you, and you’re – you’re really amazing. You shine. You’re all shiny and good, and kind and warm and you’re just a really shiny good person, and there aren’t all that many shiny good people in the world, really, and I’m just lucky I get to see it. I don’t think you let people see, but I get to see, and that’s … well, it’s awesome. So, really, I already know you, know you, but this is just to get some of the details down. I’m big on details. Details are very important, like … like reading all the footnotes in a paper, because sometimes the footnotes are just what you need to know to make everything else click into place. So, we’re footnoting details, except, y’know, not actually taking notes. Just talking. Though I could take notes – I brought my pens.”
Tara blushed – badly – throughout this whole speech, a pleased little smile appearing and getting broader and broader as Willow rambled on. Willow was right: Tara didn’t let anyone see her. Being seen had always been bad, but Willow saw her – at least, who she was right at that moment – and she wasn’t turning away. In fact, Willow liked what she saw in Tara enough to want to see more.
“I don’t think w-we’ll, umm … need notes,” Tara said picking at the bedspread with one hand. “If you, umm … if there’s a record of this, uh, this conversation, I might … umm … I might have to send Guido to get it back. Nobody w-wants that.”
“Right,” Willow said, nodding firmly and setting aside her pens. “Nobody wants that,” she said with mock-seriousness.
“So, umm … w-what’s the first question?”
“Oohh! This is so exciting,” Willow said, wiggling a little as she looked at her notebook. “Okay … you ready?”
“Umm … yeah,” Tara said, sitting very still except for the nervous picking at the bedspread and preparing for a deeply personal and possibly invasive question.
“Great! Who’s your favorite Disney heroine, and why?” Willow asked, peering at Tara and waiting for a response.
Tara let out a breath, only then realizing she’d been holding it. Who was her favorite Disney heroine? Of course. Willow wasn’t a conventional sort of girl, so why would Tara think Willow would ask convention ‘Truth or Dare’ style questions? She smiled, and considered her answer.
“Belle,” Tara said with a little smile. “Because she was,” Tara shrugged. “… a little odd? And she fell in love with the beast. And it’s my favorite Disney movie. I love Angela Lansbury.”
“Angela Lansbury?” Willow asked, her brow furrowing. “The ‘Murder, She Wrote’ lady?”
Tara nodded. “Jessica Fletcher. Yeah … did you ever, umm … see her in an older movie? Like ‘The Harvey Girls’ with Judy Garland?”
“Nope,” Willow said, shaking her head.
“It w-was made in, umm … 1946. She plays this, umm … this w-woman of ill-repute. It’s like … sometimes, they’ll show the trailer before that movie, and I, umm … I kind of – I imagine the announcer guy w-with his announcer voice saying ‘She’s beautiful and evil – she’s … Angela Lansbury’, and I just giggle. Because she’s … umm … the ‘Murder, She Wrote’ lady … and the teapot.” Tara laughed a little, self-consciously.
“So you’re saying … you think Angela Lansbury is hot?” Willow asked in a teasing tone.
“W-well, she w-was,” Tara said defensively, shrugging. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, just stopping herself from waxing lyrical about a younger Angela Lansbury’s flaming red hair. That wouldn’t do – that wouldn’t do at all. “I’m saying I’m, umm … a fan. Not like I’m all … ‘What Would Angela Lansbury Do’ kind of fan, but umm …she’s very talented.”
“I will take your word regarding Angela Lansbury’s … ‘talents’,” Willow said seriously, ruining the effect by waggling her eyebrows outrageously at the end.
“Stop,” Tara said with a laugh, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at Willow’s head. It hit Willow squarely in the face when she was unwilling to put down the notebook and raise her hands to stop the pillow.
“Hey!” Willow said, picking up the pillow to retaliate.
“W-wait!” Tara said quickly, scrambling off the bed and holding up her hands in front of her. “It’s, umm … it’s your turn. To answer the, umm … the question.”
“Fine,” Willow said, lowering the pillow and eyeing Tara narrowly. “But I’m going to remember this.”
“Right,” Tara said, climbing gingerly back onto the bed. “So … umm … who’s your favorite Disney heroine, and why?”
“Oh, well,” Willow said, looking shy suddenly. “I know the, umm … the animation isn’t as good, and it’s – y’know, ‘prince saves the day’ kind of bad not-feminist my-mother-wouldn’t-approve kind of thing, but …” Willow trailed off, looking a little embarrassed.
“Y-yes?” Tara asked, prompting Willow to answer the question, even as she found it a little … charming … that Willow would pick questions to put on her list that she found embarrassing to answer.
“Cinderella,” Willow said.
“Cinderella?” Tara asked with a smile. “Classic … good choice. But, umm … w-why?”
Willow mumbled something.
“W-what?” Tara asked, cupping her hand behind her ear. “I didn’t, umm … didn’t quite catch that.”
“I said,” Willow said, her voice a little stronger now. “I like how she can sing to birds and get them to land on her finger.”
Willow expected laughter, and possibly a little good-natured mockery. She did not expect Tara to simply smile – a secretive lop-sided smile – and look away.
“What?” Willow asked, puzzled by Tara’s reaction.
“Umm … nothing,” Tara said, biting her lip.
“No, really – what?” Willow asked, prodding Tara with her foot, pushing the girl who just went with the motion, shaking her head.
“Don’t forget, I have this pillow,” Willow said, mock-glaring at Tara and holding up the pillow to illustrate her point. “I not only have this pillow, but I have ample reason to use it, what with you being all secretive, and having smacked me in the face with it earlier.”
“Okay, okay,” Tara said, knowing when it was a good idea to capitulate. “I, umm … I can do that.”
“Do what?” Willow asked.
“The, uhh … the thing w-with the birds,” Tara said softly.
“What?” Willow squeaked, immediately springing up from the bed. “Show me.”
“Ummm … w-we have, umm … more questions to get through,” Tara protested.
“Please?” Willow said, fidgeting and looking back and forth between the window and Tara, as if expecting a flock of chirpy birds to fly through the glass and perch on her friend. “Pretty please?”
“Okay,” Tara said with a little shrug, getting up and opening the window. “It’s … I don’t really, ummm … sing. It’s just … if y-you make y-yourself, umm … calm – safe – birds w-will, umm … they’ll think you’re a good place to take a rest,” Tara explained. “It’s … they’re always so, umm … so busy flying around, it’s like … y-you just make yourself something still.”
“Neat!” Willow said, stepping back and giving Tara some room, her hands fidgeting together as she watched Tara lean out slightly, Tara’s eyes closing a little as she raised a hand, and then went perfectly, utterly, still.
Willow held her breath, not wanting to interfere or break the moment, inexplicably riveted by the sight of Tara doing absolutely nothing. Seconds seemed to stretch out, and she felt a sense of peace, of calm, well up in her, but she didn’t know if that was something Tara was actively doing, or just the effects of watching Tara like this – like looking out over a vast still lake.
Inadvertently, Willow let out a little squeak of excitement when a bird did, in fact, land on Tara’s hand, letting out a chirp of greeting. And then Tara smiled, only it wasn’t one of Tara’s usual half-smiles, but a full-out from-the-heart kind of smile, and Willow had to smile, too.
“Wow,” Willow said, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Then, Tara turned to look at her, that full smile firmly in place, those blue eyes lit up with happiness, and Willow felt the last of the air leave her lungs. She forced herself to take a breath.
“Hi,” Tara said, turning her attention back to the little bird, who chirped again. “Thank you,” she said to the bird seriously. “When you’re done resting, you can go.” The bird let out a little trill.
“Did … I mean, did that bird just understand you?” Willow asked curiously, creeping a little closer.
“No,” Tara said, shaking her head. “Well, y-yes. Sort of,” she tried again, shrugging as the bird looked around the room. “It, umm … it understood the intent. That it could stay as long as it wished, but is free to go.”
“Oh,” Willow said simply. “Do you do this often?” she asked curiously.
“Oh, no,” Tara said, shaking her head.
“Why not?” Willow asked, wondering why Tara wouldn’t do this all the time. It obviously made her happy, and it was all nice and restful for the birds, so why wouldn’t she?
The bird shook its wings once, chirped again, then took off, circling around Tara’s head and out the window.
“It, umm … after awhile, the birds, they, umm …they’re … tamed … by it,” Tara said, her eyes trained on the bird as it flew off across the campus. “Birds should be free.”
Willow said nothing, just replaying the scene in her head, and feeling like anything was possible. It was like the magic of childhood – the kind she hadn’t believed in for a long time now – had just waltzed in, becoming very real and very believable. It made her feel like she had when she watched Cinderella, like dreams could come true if she just wished hard enough, and happily ever after could really happen.
“That was … amazing,” Willow finally said after a long moment.
“Thanks,” Tara said, looking down. “Ummm … more questions?”
“Right,” Willow said with a little nod, tucking the memory away to think about later. “More questions,” she said. “After you, princess,” she said, motioning toward the bed.
“I’m not –“
“Shush!” Willow said, holding up a hand. “One thing I know with utmost certainty is that only Disney princesses can have birds land on them, and if you spoil this certainty, I will be very cross.”
“Right,” Tara said, smiling as she sat down on the bed. “So what does that make you?”
“Ummm … Gus-Gus.”
“I don’t, umm … I don’t think so,” Tara said.
“Then … the fairy godmother?” Willow hazarded, then nodded firmly. “Yes, definitely. I’m the fairy godmother.”
Tara cocked her head to one side, considering this. “Still, umm … still not quite right, but we’ll let it go,” she said. “ Next question.”
“Okay … well,” Willow said, peering at the notebook. “The next question is ‘what are you true, deep, dark feelings about Angela Lansbury?’, but I think we can skip that one.”
“I have more pillows,” Tara said, her eyes narrowing. “Just w-watch ‘The Harvey Girls’, and you w-won’t mock my Angela Lansbury thing anymore.”
“Duly noted,” Willow said, nodding and smiling. “But if I find myself wondering ‘what would Angela Lansbury do?’ at any point in my life, I’m blaming you.”
Tara considered this. “That’s, umm …that’s fair.”
“Okay … question two: how often do you ditch class?” Willow asked.
Tara looked puzzled. “I don’t,” she said simply.
“Really?” Willow asked.
“W-what’s the point of, umm … of going to college if y-you, umm … you don’t actually >go< to college?”
“Me neither,” Willow said with a bright smile.
“I mean, if I’m actually, umm … sick or something, I’ll miss class, but that’s, w-well, that’s not, umm … ditching,” Tara said.
“Oh, well,” Willow said sheepishly. “I go even if I’m sick.”
“Y-you go if you’re sick?” Tara asked, sitting up. “W-why?”
“Because I’d miss something,” Willow said with a shrug. “I really like class, and I don’t like missing it. I haven’t missed a day of school since … since my Junior year of high school, and I only missed that because I had a concussion and was in the hospital.”
“W-what happened?” Tara asked, irrational concern welling up in her, because they were discussing an injury that had happened two years ago, and presumably, had healed just fine in the meantime.
“Freak library accident,” Willow said simply, her voice light.
Tara let out a laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Y-you’re kidding. Tell me y-you’re kidding.”
“Nope – no joke,” Willow said, shaking her head to emphasize her point. “I was in the library, and a bookshelf fell on my head.”
This pronouncement sobered Tara instantly. Bookshelves were very heavy, and Willow was note remotely big. “That, umm … that couldn’t have been fun,” Tara said, frowning a little.
“Not even close,” Willow said simply, trying not to think about all that had happened in the library that night, or how, soon after, she had restored the soul of her best friend’s evil undead boyfriend, making her kill him to save the world. It was not, in Willow’s mind, one of her finest moments.
“Are you, umm … are you okay?” Tara asked, sensing that this incident was very upsetting for Willow, above and beyond the head injury.
“I’m fine,” Willow said, pasting on a brave smile and going back to her notebook. “Next question.”
“If y-you, umm … if you w-want to, uhh .. .maybe … talk about it? I’ll, umm … I’ll listen,” Tara said quietly. “If you w-want.”
“Thanks,” Willow said, letting out a weary breath and regarding Tara quietly. Maybe that’s what she needed – someone she could talk to about all this Scooby stuff, who wasn’t, themselves, a Scooby. But was that fair to Tara? She had this nice illusion that the world wasn’t nearly as scary as it really was, and there was a big part of Willow that very selfishly wished that she, herself, could go back to that blissful ignorance. But was it fair not to tell Tara about the Scooby stuff? If she didn’t know, she couldn’t be prepared, so she could end up hurt – or worse – and it would be all Willow’s fault, because Willow hadn’t warned her. “I’ll take you up on that,” Willow said, coming to a decision. “But another time – we have questions to get through.”
“Okay … w-what’s, umm … what’s next?” Tara asked, letting the matter go, warmed by the knowledge that Willow was interested in getting to know her, and that, eventually, Willow would let Tara know her, as well.
I can't count! 
just about sums it up really.
Oh, and be careful, don't trip over any falling archetypes. 
