Title: Adrienne
Author: Naeryn, aka Megan
Feedback: Goddess, yes!
Distribution: Tell me where and give me credit. Other than that, fill your boots. *pauses to wonder where that phrase came from*
Rating: Rated T, for Teen.
Notes: Another short-but-packed update. A cookie to the first person who names the song and the group that sings it. And, because that'll be rediculously easy, I want the singers' names too. Full names. Proper spelling.
There's a cliffhanger here too... and nothing teensy about it
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CHAPTER 6
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Willow’s hands clenched and unclenched around the air inside the little blue coffee shop. Java’s. What kind of a name was that? She shrugged; Espresso Pump wasn’t much better. She stood at the counter, waiting to order their drinks. She’d made a point of asking what Tara wanted, of course… and knew already what she would say. Decaf choco-latte with extra whipped cream. And chocolate sprinkles. ‘And don’t forget the chocolate sprinkles!’ she’d said. Just like every other time, back in Sunnydale.
Shaking her head bitterly, she stepped up to the counter. The young woman behind smiled at her. “Hey. What can I get you?”
“Um, decaf choco-latte with sprinkles and an iced mocha, please.” She turned half around, looking at Tara where she sat in a booth on the far wall. Tara’s eyes drifted around the place, not looking at Willow. The redhead turned and faced the young woman again. “And… and a butter croissant.” She smiled a little. Tara’s favorite. She hoped they were still, but if she was still drinking the same coffee, she’d probably be eating the same pastry.
As the woman passed on her order, she leaned against the counter. She let her eyes pass over the place. It was… nice. Nothing really special, but sort of… comfortable. Willow allowed herself another smile of a little happier quality. The song playing quietly in the background was one of her favorites, though the singers irritated her a little. Who did they think they were? Who pretended to be lesbians? And then made every single song about it? She shook her head a little, but began tapping her fingers on the hard laminate surface in counterpoint to the music. At least they were cute.
“And I’m all mixed up, feeling cornered and rushed, they say it’s my fault but I want her so much, wanna fly her away where the sun and the rain come in over my face, wash away all the shame…”
When was that coffee going to come?
“All the things she said, all the things she said, running through my head, running through my head, all the things she said, this is not enough,
ya soshla s uma…”
Maybe she didn’t want the coffee to come quickly. She wasn’t sure. Part of Willow wanted to get the stuff and go and talk to Tara. Focus on something other than the music that seemed to be criticizing her. The rest of her would rather listen to the berating music than face what she would with Tara. There would be no problems with the woman accepting her, she knew, but still… what she had to say would inspire a lot of questions. Many of which Willow wasn’t sure she was prepared to answer. She had a lot to spill – if she didn’t, after telling Buffy she would, the slayer would come up here and… well, Willow wasn’t sure exactly what her best friend would do, but she was fairly certain it wouldn’t be pleasant.
She looked over at Tara again. Her head was bobbing slightly in time with the music. The beat
was terribly catchy. Willow smiled slightly as she saw a strand of hair fall over Tara’s face. She rolled her eyes up to stare at it and puffed air upwards, trying to blow it to the side. Willow fought back a giggle as she watched Tara fix the strand of rebellious hair with a glare and finally give in, brushing it aside with her hand. Willow jumped as she felt a tap on her arm.
“Excuse me. Um, your coffees are ready.”
Willow shook herself out of her reverie and smiled at the woman, slipping her a few bills and taking the coffees and croissant over to the booth. Smiling nervously, she sat down across from Tara and pushed both the latte and the croissant over to her. “I, um, didn’t know if you were hungry, and you always liked croissants…” She frowned. Maybe it was too much? Was she being presumptuous? Tara hadn’t said she was hungry. If she was hungry, she probably would have said she was.
“Will?”
Willow jumped slightly, jarred out of her inner ramble. “Hmm?”
Tara just smiled softly. “You looked like you were babbling.” There was a brief time five years ago when Tara wouldn’t have said a thing, just kissed her, softly and tenderly. The way she did that first time, when both of them were so nervous and yet so sure that what was happening between them was completely and utterly and right.
Willow nodded and smiled again, halfheartedly, before looking down at her fascinating mocha. She lifted one finger and drew a line through the thin film of condensation on the outside of the cool plastic cup, not really paying attention to what she was doing. She crossed that line and drew another, slowly forming a word. T – A – R… she blinked twice and rubbed at the cup, erasing the letters. A heavy silence descended on them, both needing to speak, neither willing to say the words.
The discomfort grew and began to pulse between them, as if they were tossing something invisible back and forth that changed the energy. First it throbbed around Tara, as if expecting her to do something; then around Willow in the same way. Waiting, impatient for whatever ice lay between them to be broken. Both of them desperately wanted it to be. Still they sat there, silent, Tara picking lightly at her croissant, Willow gulping down her iced mocha absently.
Tara bit her lip. She had so much to say to Willow. She’d made no secret yesterday of the fact that she was still in love with the woman, though she hadn’t said anything explicitly. She wanted to yell at her, call her a fool for leaving her alone when she’d known that no one else would care for Tara. She wanted to hurl herself across the table and kiss Willow so hard she’d forget all about Oz or any other man. Some part of her wanted to break down into tears and let Willow comfort her. The redhead would, of that she was sure. She sighed and swallowed all three desires down. None would be productive, and certainly not here, in the middle of a coffee house.
Studying Tara’s face surreptitiously, Willow worried about the woman across from her. She looked really very stressed out – probably similarly to the way she herself looked, she imagined. Tara seemed to be growing more and more tense and agitated by the minute. Willow sighed loudly, shattering the silence. All at once, it seemed, the music in the small coffee shop came rushing back, filling their ears with a quiet beat that seemed to smooth out the strain between them.
“Tara?” Willow’s voice cracked and wavered as she spoke, and she winced at the roughness. Saying that name in such a broken, empty way seemed some sort of sacrilege to her. “I… I think I need to tell you… why Oz and I…”
Eyes widening, Tara shook her head ever so slightly. Willow didn’t see it, distracted by the pace of her heart slamming against her ribcage and the sweat gushing from her pores. Tara was having a similar reaction. She didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to know what Oz had that she didn’t, why she couldn’t make Willow happy. Sure they’d fallen apart a little, but they’d still been close, she hadn’t even spoken to her in years. That wasn’t fair; it was her own decision to leave. She couldn’t blame Oz or Willow for that, but still… she sorely didn’t want to relive Willow’s choice.
“His reaction was pretty decent, you know, when I told him. It was hard, he was the first I told. Figured I owed it to him, tell him first, give him an explanation. It wasn’t at all what I… He was the best of them all, ‘cept maybe Dawnie. Dawnie was great about it. Giles had a lot of ‘oh dear lord’s… Xander kept getting this weird look on his face whenever I brought it up. I think they were all kind of stunned about it. You know, since Oz… and all… and…” Willow sighed. She’d given Tara her friends’ reactions to news that Tara herself hadn’t heard yet. Mentally, she kicked herself, and fought the urge to do so in actuality under the table. She had to get on with it.
Tara lifted her eyes a little, looking across the table at Willow. What on earth was she on about? There was obviously something she wanted to say that she… well, didn’t want to say. “W-Will? Just say it.” She sighed. She’d stuttered over Willow’s name. She couldn’t say that she hadn’t expected it to happen, but she hadn’t stuttered in so long, not since Adrienne had been born.
Biting her lip, Willow plunged ahead. After saying it to nine different people, most at different times, you’d think she’d have found an easier way. She hadn’t; she had to just come out and say it. She laughed a little at that, a high pitched, nervous sound. “Tara… I’m gay.”
by Tawilove » Mon Jul 11, 2005 3:38 pm 
those days and it's not getting better 
is it possible that she sensed somehow through some magical connection that Willow was related to her and that it helped her understand who she was?
four-year-old logic. And why would Tara lie to her daughter? That's something that's always pissed me off about a lot of parents. You'll find that virtually all of my Buffys are perceptive and caring, because the irritatingly shallow and selfcentered Buffy of season 4+ makes me want to run a peice of pointy wood through HER heart. And as for the realization call, I make no promises.
okay....i'm finished. I'll just be quiet now 
Cant wait for the next update looking forward to it 
That was cute 
