by EasierSaid » Sat Sep 28, 2013 3:40 pm
Title: Neverland
Author: EasierSaid
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: None.
Setting: AU. There is no Hellmouth, there is no slayer and no magic of the wicca variety. Just our girls and the rest of the Buffy characters living and loving in that great city by the bay, San Francisco.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Please don't sue me Mutant Enemy.
Notes: Lightbulb.
Thoughts in italics
PART 66
Three years earlier
Pleasure. She was floating in it and it made her tremble as she softly panted through cold lips. A kiss on the inside of her thigh, another on her hip. Another on her stomach, soft skin pressing in between her open legs causing her to gasp. A long, slow, circular lick of her right nipple sent a jolt through her body, a feather kiss on her collarbone soothed her. And then her lips. Soft, warm and wet and she moaned, desire flaring inside of her. She opened her eyes as the body before her pulled away and she saw Tara, her blue eyes lidded and intense. Lust surged through the redhead and she leaned forward and captured the blonde's lips in a searing kiss, almost bruising the girl as she tasted herself on her skin. She pulled the blonde to her, gasping as their breasts connected, as their hips came together. Her thin hands urgently mapped the blonde's curves, fingertips trailing over her soft skin. Tongues slid together and Willow's lust flared again, her fingers digging into the blonde's flesh. She heard a low moan and she pulled back, again looking into Tara's eyes. Passion, longing and something else so elemental and real stared back at her. Willow groaned and sank to her knees, burying her face between the blonde's legs. She heard a gasp as she began to move her tongue, the taste increasing the wetness dripping from between her own legs. She swirled her tongue, broad then curled, anything, anything to make Tara come.
Willow gasped, and almost moaned as she came into consciousness, her somnolent mind confused about where she was and what was real. A few seconds passed and her thoughts began to clear. The near-darkness was real. The hard floor beneath her twisted sleeping bag was real. And the feeling between her legs, wet beyond anything she had ever experienced, was real too.
She turned her head and could just make out the soft features of Tara's face in the dim light, the girl sleeping peacefully on the bed a few feet away. The blonde's lips parted, breathing softly as she slept and all Willow wanted to do was to reach up and kiss her. Kiss her gently and feel the slumbering girl wake to her touch.
Willow gasped again, this time silently as her eyes went wide and she realized just what exactly she had thought. What she had dreamed.
Her hands shook as she quietly pushed the sleeping bag from her body. She silently scampered to her feet and stepped away from the blonde's bed. Where were the tadpoles?! Willow panicked. There were always tadpoles in her dreams, or sandblasters, little flowers that sang Britney Spears songs backwards, cars that ran on whipped cream, not... She backed up. Where in the hell were the tadpoles?! It was so real. Too real.
The blonde was six feet away and Willow still recoiled. She felt like the walls of the room were impossibly close, the room impossibly cramped. And all she wanted to do was shrink it further and slip into bed with Tara.
And if she slipped into bed with Tara she'd kiss her. Touch her. Run a hand under the girl's thin sleep shirt and groan when her hand filled with the weight of her breast, the nipple stiff in her palm. Run her other hand between them, under the waistband of the blonde's boxers, dipping and swirling and god she wanted her. She wanted her so much her teeth stung, her jaw clenched hard to prevent the stifled moan she felt from gurgling up her throat and past her thick tongue. Every muscle in her body hummed and she ached from it. Ached for her. She wanted Tara, wanted her in a way she had never wanted anyone before, and the one thing she wanted more than anything, more than sucking on her breasts, more than getting her fingers slick in her wetnesses was the sound, the breathy, helpless sound of Tara moaning her name in her ear right before she came. She wanted to hear Tara say her name like she wanted her too. Like she needed her. Like she loved her.
Willow felt so stupid. Hot tears began to sting her eyes. All those times Buffy had talked about Tara the redhead had explained her reactions away as mere interest, maybe even admiration, but this? She couldn't explain this away. She couldn't deny what this so obviously was. She wanted Tara. She wanted her. Not as a friend, but as a lover. And she wanted that because of a suffocating barrage of intense feelings that she couldn't explain, powerful feelings that she wanted to hide even from herself. Feelings that she was afraid she'd end up wanting more than anything she had ever wanted before. Feelings like tenderness and yearning. Love.
Her stomach turned and she clutched her chest as she quietly backed out of the room, silently shutting the door behind her and quickly making her way into the living room. She felt like she couldn't breathe, felt like she might be sick and the whole time her heart was beating wildly with the thought, the wish, the desire to turn right back around and kiss Tara. Bury fingers in blonde hair and kiss her. Run a hand down to the small of her back and pull the curvy girl close. Whisper in her ear words of devotion that she was embarrassed to even be thinking. What was she going to tell Buffy? Her parents? Oz–
Oh god, Oz. She covered her mouth. She hadn't thought about him all day, not really, aside from a quick question from Buffy and the brief back-and-forth with Tara. But she had been impatient to move off the topic when both girls had asked after him. It was like the mere mention of his name had been an intrusion on her thoughts about Tara, one that she had eagerly sped away from. What was she going to tell Oz?
She quickly made her way across the dimly-lit living room and sat down on the couch, rubbing her hands across her PJ-covered knees in circles as she nervously tried to catch her breath, rein in her panic. This wasn't happening. It was a blip. A mistake. She wasn't really feeling this, wasn't really contemplating doing anything other than forgetting that this had ever happened. Thoughts and feelings collided in her head and she shook it side to side to try and slow everything down.
But it didn't go away. She began to panic. This wasn't real. She liked guys. She loved Oz. Oz, Oz who had been her first, whom she had been with for almost five years. She had never shown an interest in women before. Never. The redhead froze. Except for that girl in her lab junior year who always seemed to make her smile and occasionally blush. Her face heated up, the panic rising in her throat. But that was just because she reminded her of Tara and she was interested in Tara because she was Buffy's friend and–
Oh, god. Willow put her face in her hands. She had stared at her all day. Stared at her smile, stared at her breasts. "I like your shirt." "Birdy." She was mortified as the day's details flew into her mind. She had held Tara's hand, used any excuse possible to touch the girl. And when her hand had run over the blonde's stomach after she drew on her back, Willow had felt it, a jolt, a tingle that shot up her arm and had for the briefest of moments made her slightly uncomfortable because a part of her, a tiny, silent, buried part of her knew what it meant.
She shook her head. No, no, she had Oz. She loved Oz, wanted him. Her brow furrowed. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had sex. She furiously scanned her memory. Valentine's Day? No, he had been touring. She remembered because she had been lonely, had called Buffy and had talked to Tara for about three seconds before the blonde handed it off to her best friend. She remembered wondering if the blonde had had a date... She shook her head and once again tried to remember. Why couldn't she remember?
She swallowed hard. It had been so long not even an impending separation this past week had brought them together. She thought again about Tara, how excited she had been to fly out, to maybe see the blonde and once again she was flooded with a confusing mix of feelings that threatened to drown her. Intense lust surged within her and her heart swelled with tenderness toward the girl; her fingers curled around the edge of the couch cushion, almost like she was holding on for dear life and if she let go she'd fly into the blonde's room and... The redhead swallowed back a pained sigh. For the past year Willow had thought the dwindling intimacy with Oz was because they were busy, because he was touring, because of lingering unease with his betrayal, but now she saw things in a new light, one that seemed to be attached to the front of a freight train barreling toward her at 100 miles an hour. Was it because of her growing interest in Tara? Because she was–
The redhead abruptly stood and started to pace. No, no, no, no... Her stomach turned as another wave of panic overtook her. She was in a relationship. With Oz. Who she had loved since she was a nobody in high school. And before that there was Xander. Hadn't she wanted him once upon a time? She shook her head slightly as she tried to reconnect with those old feelings and found she couldn't. She couldn't even imagine thinking about Xander that way again. But Oz. Surely she could about Oz. She set her mind to concentrate on the man. His hands. She had obsessed about his hands before they started dating. But the hands in her mind weren't his at all. They were thin and soft. Tara's hands. Willow paced. Oz's face, the slight stubble of his beard. But she couldn't imagine that either, her mind clouding the picture with Tara's perfect half smile, her full red lips. Tears stung Willow's eyes. How could she have let this happen? How could she be so naïve?
She wiped a stray tear from her eye. She just needed to hear his voice. She was confused from spending so much time with the blonde; touching base with Oz would remind her, and then everything would be back to normal. Everything would be fine. She moved quickly to the arm of the couch and her jacket. She fished her cell phone from the jacket pocket, her hand shaking the whole time and quickly cycled to Oz's name in her contact list.
The phone rang twice.
"Hello?"
"Oz?" Willow asked, her voice small.
"Willow– Is everything alright?" He asked. The redhead could hear rustling, knew the man must be arching his neck to see the numbers on his bedside clock. Her brow furrowed as she realized she couldn't remember the color of the blanket on his bed. Tara's was red, with a cream-colored crocheted cover, the material starting to fray on the edges... "Willow–"
"Fine, I'm fine," she sputtered as she realized she must have worried him. "I'm sorry, it's late."
"It's okay," he said, a slight sigh accompanying the words. "Are you okay? You sound a little, wigged."
"Yup," she said, her voice tight. "I mean, no wigging here." She squeezed her eyes shut. Could he tell she was lying? "I'm sorry. I just. I needed to hear your voice." Her stomach clenched and she pushed her lips together to stifle a pained sigh.
"Will." She heard him sigh."Look, I know I have a long way to go to fully regain your trust, but." He paused. "I hate that you feel like you have to call in the middle of the night and check up on me."
"What? That's not–" Willow covered her hand over her eyes, her voice wavering as she spoke. "That's not why I'm calling." Her dream flashed through her mind and she swallowed hard, guilt and shame sitting in her throat. Tears stung her eyes as she lied. "We just, haven't talked, at all, since I left and I miss you."
"I miss you too," he said. "And I'm really sorry about having to cancel my trip out, but I–"
"What?" Willow interrupted, her voice abrupt. "Wait– Cancel– You're not flying out?"
"You didn't get my email?" He asked, surprised.
"I haven't been on my computer today," Willow said, her voice oddly calm despite the tears clouding her vision.
"The guys, they got us a couple of gigs," Oz explained. "It was either this week or next, and I didn't want to miss your graduation. I know how important it is to you."
"Oh," she said, emotionless.
"And I know how much you've missed hanging out with just Buffy and Xander as the old gang, so..."
"You..." Willow sat down, her head in her hands, shocked that the emotion that accompanied her boyfriend telling her that he was blowing her off was relief. She was relieved he wasn't flying out to Sunnydale. "It's okay."
"Thanks," he said.
Willow didn't know what to say. She suddenly felt trapped, trapped on the phone, trapped in the apartment, trapped in her own body. Thoughts whipped and screamed inside her head, her feelings simultaneously crushing and exploding her fast-beating heart. She began to rock back and forth in her seat.
"So what did you do today?"
"What?" Willow asked sharply. You called him, she reminded herself, squeezing her eyes closed and then opening them. "I, I went to a museum."
"Huh," Oz said.
"Huh?" Willow asked.
"Just, Buffy went to a museum," the short man clarified.
"No," Willow said. No, she didn't. The redhead stood, her blood starting to boil, anger at the petite blonde starting to well up inside her.
"So you went alone," the short man again clarified.
"I went with Tara," Willow said, her voice catching on the blonde's name. Her face screwed up in pain. How, after how easy yesterday was, could she be this confused? Tears again stung her eyes, her chest constricting. She felt like she couldn't breathe.
"Random."
"Buffy had to work, so..." Anger again swelled inside her. She wouldn't be in this situation if Buffy hadn't ditched her.
"At least you went with someone you like," Oz said.
"What?" Willow said, panic seizing her voice, her attention snapped back to the conversation on the phone.
"You talk about Tara a lot," he explained.
"I–" She was dizzy. How long had she had feelings for the blonde? "That's not the point."
"Okay," Oz said simply.
"I just," She struggled to find words, some place to direct this anger and humiliation.
"I didn't come here to be forgotten, ignored, just dumped because she doesn't have time–"
"We're talking about Buffy–"
"Oz, she left me with a stranger all day so she could go do her boyfriend."
"Harsh," the man said.
Willow's shoulder's slumped; she knew him well enough to know that his comment was directed at her, not Buffy. "It's just. If I wanted to spend an entire day with someone I had nothing in common with–" She felt her stomach knotting as she verbally twisted Tara into something less than what she so obviously was. "I wouldn't have spent all that money on a plane ticket; I would have just plucked some random person off the street and dragged them around Boston."
"You didn't have fun today."
"That's." Willow stopped. Memories of the most perfect day she had ever spent flashed before her. Tears pooled in her eyes and she thought she was going to be sick.
"Not the point?" Oz carefully asked. When she didn't answer, he spoke. "It's only a couple more days."
"Yeah," she said with a weak nod of the head, her hand tightly clenching the cell phone, turning her knuckles white. Only a couple more days. A deep furrow dug into her brow. Only a couple more days. She only had a couple more days...
"I have to go," she said, a chill overtaking her body as she abruptly sat down on the couch.
"Ok," he said.
"I'm sorry," the redhead said, knowing full well that she was apologizing for more than the late phone call.
"It's okay," the man said. "Willow."
"Huh?" She replied distractedly.
"Try to have fun."
"Okay," she managed. "Bye." She hung up, avoiding the inevitable exchange of 'I love yous,' tears slipping down her face. She had never felt more alone in her life. She felt like a rudderless boat, the one, guiding star that she always followed when she felt left adrift at sea was now obscured by a super nova and she didn't know which way to go. Only that wasn't entirely true. She exhaled as reality hit her. She was going to break up with Oz.
Oh my god, he's my beard, she thought suddenly, panic again slamming into her. He was her beard, and he didn't know it, and now she was going to end it with him and be, what, gay? Move to San Francisco, try to get Tara to fall in love with her? The intense look the blonde gave her after drawing on her back came to her mind and took her breath away. Willow shook her head. She had drawn on Buffy's back before, Amy's, and never, ever had it felt like that. Her skin tingled, her heart fluttered and other, places... the redhead thought, embarrassed. When Tara had rolled over, when her hand and brushed across the blonde's stomach it was like... Willow exhaled. It was like everything she had ever imagined being in love would be.
What if she had slept in Tara's bed, had woken up that wet, the object of her rampant desire pressed lightly into her side, the blonde's warm breath just tickling the soft hair on her cheek. The redhead's face flushed and she again grasped onto the edge of the couch, grounding herself. She took a deep breath, followed by another and the day played back in her mind. Tara's shy half smile evolving over the hours into a sly half smile. The blushes. The times the girl retreated behind a curtain of blonde hair only to emerge with a twinkle in her eye that made the redhead feel such incredible warmth. Willow slowly exhaled. Tara had offered to let her sleep in her bed. Willow exhaled again. Maybe she liked her, too. The thought both scared her and made her heart soar in a confusing mishmash of emotions. She looked to the hallway, picturing Tara's serene, sleeping face. She was probably only seeing what she wanted to see.
She let go of the couch and brought her hands to her face. She had fairy lights in her room in Cambridge. She began to rub her face, embarrassment burning her cheeks red again. She had fairy lights in her room because it made her feel closer to the blonde, because when she had slept in Tara's bed during her Halloween trip out it was the safest, happiest she had been in a long time. How could she have thought it was just the lights? She dropped her hands to her side and stood up, beginning to pace, her mind racing to every moment she had thought—so innocently, she had thought—about the blonde. And not just at the park, but this whole trip. How she had stared at dinner at Massawa's, how she offered the kind of smile she had once upon a time only offered Oz. And last week, as she finalized plans for her trip. Last month, last Valentine's Day, last year at the Halloween party and any number of random times the blonde had passed through her mind and apparently infiltrated her heart in the last two years.
She liked girls. The redhead blushed again as she found it hard to breathe, shaking her hands out, her body tingling and numb. Girl. She had feelings for Tara, the scariest, soul-shattering feelings she had ever experienced. She might as well have woken up to being struck by lightening. What was she going to do? What was her life going to be like, her up-till-now normal and boring life, so safe and fulfilling of the expectations she knew others had of her. How was she going to explain this to everyone, Oz, Xander, Buffy, her parents? She imagined the looks on their faces, the inevitable questions and she swallowed back a wave of sickness. Was she going to have to come out now? And how? The stories, the awful stories, her friend Bryan told her of his coming out flooded her memory. Were her parents going to disown her? Would Buffy and Xander treat her differently; would she be different? And how was she going to go back to the East Coast, to her life 3,000 miles away, when Tara was here? What if Tara started dating someone, anyone, that wasn't her? She felt her heart constrict. Who was she going to be with if Tara didn't feel the same way? Some, other, girl? She exhaled and flapped her hands in a futile attempt to slow her whirling mind. How was she supposed to do any of this?
She swallowed hard, her mind spinning, her throat hard. She was genuinely worried she was going to pass out. She eventually slowed to a stop and felt her gaze pulled to the dark hallway that led to the bedrooms. She couldn't go back into Tara's room. Not with how she felt. Not with how she must smell, she thought with another embarrassed blush. She'd sleep in Buffy's bed. She'd close her eyes, sleep and in the morning she'd figure everything out. She took a deep breath and wrung her hands, hesitating for a moment as she stared into the shadows. She rocked back and then stepped forward, and made her way as quietly as she could into the petite blonde's bed.
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The persistent pressure in her bladder told Tara that no matter how hard she tried to get comfortable she was going to have to get up to use the bathroom, and soon. She blinked open her eyes and tried to adjust to the near-darkness. She peered over the edge of her bed and was surprised to see that Willow wasn't on the floor, the sleeping bag flap pulled back, the bag slightly twisted and pushed aside.
The blonde sighed and sat up, wiping her eyes as she swung her feet over the edge. She stood up and pushed her shoulder blades together, stretching slightly before she crossed to the door and turned the knob. As she did she heard Willow's muffled voice in the other room. Huh, the blonde thought, surprised as she quietly opened the door, Buffy came home after all. She decided she'd pop her head in to say hello before going to the bathroom. She took two steps into the dark hallway before freezing. Willow sounded upset, her voice was low and frantic, and the blonde could see the slim girl pacing in the shadows of the living room.
"I didn't come here to be forgotten, ignored, just dumped because she doesn't have time–" Tara was shocked. The redhead was on the phone. In the middle of the night she was on the phone and she was far from happy. Who could she possibly call at this hour? The blonde thought, genuinely perplexed. And why was she angry with Buffy? It wasn't at all how the redhead had talked about the petite blonde all day; she had seemed almost giddy when she thought Buffy wouldn't be joining them for dinner...
"Oz," Willow said from the other room, and the blonde silently sighed, ducking her head. Oz. "She left me with a stranger all day so she could go do her boyfriend," the redhead continued and Tara recoiled. A stranger? Her skin went cold. The redhead was talking about her.
"I know," Willow continued. "It's just. If I wanted to spend an entire day with someone I had nothing in common with–" The blonde's stomach clenched. "I wouldn't have spent all that money on a plane ticket, I would have just plucked some random person off the street and dragged them around Boston."
Tara felt like she'd had the wind knocked out of her. She slowly backed into her room, her heart beating wildly as she quietly closed the door behind her, her hand shaking as she silently turned the knob. Willow was talking about her, and it cut her to her core. She made her way back to her bed and sat down, her mind spinning, face flush with humiliation. She couldn't believe the words she just heard. Did Willow really think that about her? That they had nothing in common, after all they shared that day, all the smiles, the secrets? She was just some stranger?
Tara swallowed hard. How could this Willow, the one on the phone with her boyfriend—her boyfriend—be the same Willow who bought her a penguin keychain? The same Willow who was eager to spend more time together, who held her hand in the tulip garden, who asked her to dinner, who followed her into her room, onto her bed, drew on her back? And the look she had given her after... How could she be a stranger after all of that? And to tell Oz, the man who she spoke of in a way that made him sound like a stranger, or at least an estranged lover... It was shocking. She was shocked, and no amount of reasoning made things better.
Was she an experiment? The blonde's face screwed up in pain. Something to do while Buffy was away? The thought grated, awkward and wrong in her mind. The girl shook her head lightly. But Willow wasn't cruel, not the Willow she knew from the park, not the Willow she knew from Buffy. The redhead could be snarky, she had seen as much herself, but to play with someone's emotions so freely... The blonde sighed, the words Willow used ringing in her ears. "Stranger." "Nothing in common." Telling herself the redhead would never say something like that couldn't erase what she had heard.
And the worst part about all of this, she thought, feeling her cheeks burn, probably more than her embarrassment in how she had swooned all night, more than how she had wondered if the redhead had flirted with her, more than that she admitted to herself how strong her feelings were getting, was that she thought they were friends. New friends, nothing guaranteed to last beyond this brief visit in town, but friends enough to value each other's feelings. Tara closed her eyes, remembering the care Willow had shown as she talked about her mom by the fly fishing pools, the fresh memory overwhelming her, tears pooling in her eyes. How could that same person have been so dismissive of her? The blonde thought about Willow's tone of voice on the phone, how angry she seemed. It was entirely possible that she was angry with Buffy and that Tara was a convenient scapegoat. But "stranger?" "Nothing in common?" She felt so foolish.
She looked to the door and brushed an errant tear from her cheek. She couldn't let Willow know that she had overheard her on the phone. It was too humiliating, too embarrassing. If Willow meant the things she said, that she was a stranger, the blonde would be forgotten as soon as Buffy returned in the morning and her "roommate of a friend" status would likely be painfully obvious. They would exchange polite hellos, some benign conversation and the intimacy of the previous day would only exist as a memory. The blonde brushed another tear from her cheek. But if Willow hadn't... Tara frowned. If she hadn't meant those things, had just been venting, her heart bruised by Buffy's abandonment, then letting the redhead know she had been overheard would just embarrass her and hurt her further. Neither of them deserved the conversation that would follow from Tara admitting to hearing what she shouldn't have.
The blonde climbed back into bed, mindful of her still-full bladder, and laid still in the darkness. After Willow returned she'd use the bathroom, and in the morning she'd see if she was the fool she felt herself to be. After what felt like an eternity, she heard Willow's soft footfalls in the hallway, but they didn't lead to her room. She heard a creak, and knew the redhead had gone into Buffy's room. The blonde exhaled, again surprised by the redhead's actions. She waited to see if the girl would return, but after ten minutes it became obvious that Willow never would. She rose quietly and stole into the bathroom, then again back to bed. She lay awake for the better part of an hour, unable to reconcile the two Willows, before slipping into a restless and unsatisfying slumber.
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She called Tara a stranger. This and other unpleasant thoughts woke Willow at an ungodly hour, fear of another explicit dream keeping what little sleep she'd gotten fitful and fidgety. She laid in bed as long as she could stand it, hearing garbage trucks banging and grinding their way through nearby streets, until anxiety from her ping ponging thoughts and how she smelled—the physical remnant of her midnight revelation—finally drove her into the bathroom and a frantic shower. She bathed quickly, self-conscious of her nudity, worried that she'd wake the blonde and terrified that she was starting what was certainly the first day of a new existence.
Her initial thought once dressed was to bolt. To flee to a counter seat at The Pork Store and wait until Buffy called her, if she ever would, and then... And then, what? She couldn't talk to Buffy about this, because she still wasn't sure what this was. She knew she had feelings for Tara, but she also knew she felt embarrassed and angry, and she couldn't articulate why. Was she gay now? It all felt so sudden, and she couldn't imagine the help the petite blonde would try to offer if she dumped all of the emotions she was feeling on her. Willow swallowed hard. No, she needed to figure this out by herself. If she just had a little time she could figure it all out.
Her second thought was to see Tara, a thought that made her heart race and stomach clench. Willow knew all too well that the statistical likelihood of acting like a complete spaz the next time she saw the girl was phenomenally high. But she wanted to see her. Needed to see her. Her sparkling blue eyes, her lovely half smile. And she couldn't leave her, not after just disappearing in the night. Tara would think it was so weird if she woke up and she wasn't there. So she stayed, though she couldn't fathom what she'd say once she did see the blonde. The mere thought of the girl left her tongue-tied, and she only imagined the sight of her would leave her completely flummoxed. "Hi, good morning, we had a lot of x-rated sex last night," the redhead muttered to herself as she sat at the kitchen bar, a bowl of once-crunchy cereal in front of her. She sighed. "And I'm totally in love with you."
She stared at the bowl before her, her brow furrowed. She was so confused. She felt like her life had been completely turned upside down and she had no idea how to handle it. She absently pushed her soggy cereal around the bowl with her spoon. It was on her third try in dunking a mushy O that she heard the heavy lock turn and saw the door open out of the corner of her eye.
"Good morning," Buffy said, chipper as she entered the apartment, a bag in hand.
"Hey," Willow replied without looking up.
"Wow, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," the petite blonde said as she locked the door and moved more fully into the small apartment.
The redhead snapped to attention, annoyed. No, 'How are you?' No, 'I'm sorry I never called?' "Somebody woke up not here, where she said she was going to be," Willow shot back.
"I brought donuts," Buffy breezed, walking to the redhead's side.
"I'm eating cereal," the redhead said pointedly. She looked at her best friend incredulously, the irrational anger she felt in the middle of the night at being abandoned—for the perfect day ever—roaring to the forefront of her mind.
"Where's Tara?"
Indignant Willow momentarily faltered. "Asleep."
The petite blonde put the bag down next to the redhead. "Did you have fun yesterday?"
Willow flushed red, a million emotions flooding her brain. "Did you?" She finally asked, flustered, raising her eyebrows in a challenge.
"Okay," the petite blonde said with a knowing head nod. "Can we go through the many, many synonyms for 'bad friend' after a quick shower?"
Willow just rolled her eyes in response.
Buffy patted her shoulder. "I got you a jelly," she said before crossing to the hallway and bathroom beyond.
Willow sighed and looked back down to her cereal, trying again to dunk the biggest O with the backside of her spoon.
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Tara hid in her room for as long as she could, listening as the redhead showered and made her way to the kitchen. She didn't know what to say. What should she, given what she had heard in the middle of the night? Willow either thought very little of her or was hurting in a way that she wasn't supposed to be privy to. Was she supposed to pretend like everything was fine? Were they friends? Friends of friends? She had no idea what was expected of her.
And then Buffy came home, and Tara breathed out a sigh of relief she didn't know she had been holding. She heard their voices and exhaled. Buffy as buffer sounded safe. She quickly changed out of her boxers and pulled on a pair of capri sweats and a lightweight sweater. She'd just go out, say hello, keep things brief and hopefully be able to tell where she stood with the redhead. She took a deep breath and turned the knob to her door... just as the sound of the shower started. Tara closed her eyes, knowing full well that it wasn't Willow heading back for a second scrub. She hesitated, unsure of the next step. But she couldn't hide all day. She mustered her courage and walked out into the living room.
Willow's back was to her, her shoulder's slumped, and Tara couldn't tell if she was tired, mad or sad. She cleared her throat. "Hey." She swore Willow jumped.
The redhead turned. "Hi," she said, her eyes wide, her heart hammering in her chest. She wiped her hands on her pants and felt her stomach flip. She felt like she had, "GAY NOW!" written on her forehead.
"H-How are you?" Tara asked, annoyed with her stutter. Willow seemed nervous.
"Fine. I'm fine. Are you fine, too?" The redhead internally cringed as she slid off the bar stool and faced the blonde. Not even thirty seconds and she sounded like a spaz.
"Yeah," Tara said, self-consciously. "Where did you end up sleeping last night?" She regretted the question when she saw Willow's surprised look. The blonde spoke quickly. "I h-had to use the bathroom, late; I noticed you'd moved..."
Willow blushed. Tara must think she's so weird. "The floor was sort of hard so I moved to Buffy's bed." It felt awful to lie.
Tara nodded. "Did you sleep well?" She asked. "I mean, after you moved?"
"Yeah," Willow nodded, her eyes really looking at the blonde. She was wearing sweats instead of boxers, a sweater over her adorable bird shirt. Her full lips were slightly pursed and her blonde hair—complete with sleepy fly aways—was tucked behind her ears. She was beautiful. Absolutely, soul-crushingly beautiful and Willow kicked herself for not recognizing the feelings surging through her months ago. She felt her face start to redden, her palms start to sweat. How could she possibly just chit chat with Tara when she was so completely smitten? She was too nervous, her thoughts and feelings bubbling up inside; soon they'd come flooding out of her mouth, filter be damned and then what? She was in love with this girl and she had no idea how to be around her, emotions she didn't even know she was capable of feeling before last night threatening to drown her. She needed to leave. "Hey, can you tell Buffy to meet me at the shoe store? The, one with the dinosaur out front?" She spoke nervously, guilty. "I saw a pair of shoes there the other day that I think I'm going to buy."
"O-Okay." Tara stammered as she watched Willow turn and put her phone in her bag. The blonde's eyes darted to the clock; Shoe Biz wouldn't open for at least three more hours. "You're leaving now?" She asked surprised, watching as the redhead finished collecting her things, her posture rigid. The way Willow was acting... It was like they barely knew each other.
"Yeah, I thought I'd, get a jump on the day," Willow said, forcing a thin smile to her lips. She was so ashamed of herself. She couldn't even be normal for one single conversation. "Last full day here and all."
Tara swallowed hard. Maybe she's just eager to go out... "Do you want some company, cause I could–?"
"No," Willow said quickly. Thoughts of how she groped the blonde yesterday flashed through her mind. She didn't trust herself alone with the girl. "I mean. You're still in your jammies and I'm all, raring-to-go-gal." She tried a good-natured smile, but her face felt so tight...
Tara nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle. So she hadn't heard wrong on the phone. Willow had completely transformed.
"See you later," the redhead said with an awkward wave as she started for the door.
"Willow," Tara called, stopping the redhead in her tracks. None of this made sense. "Did I. Did I s-say, or d-do something wrong?" She held her breath as she waited for an answer.
"What?" Willow asked as she turned, her heart in her throat. She took two big steps toward the blonde before stopping herself, panic flooding her slight frame. "Why would you say that?"
"You seem, upset, m-maybe with me?" Tara said, surprised by the conflicted look on the redhead's face. She probably shouldn't be asking this, but she needed to know. "Did I do something, or s-say something–"
"No," Willow interrupted forcefully, ashamed. She was ruining everything wonderful that happened yesterday because she couldn't stop acting like a spaz. "Of course not. I just." She exhaled, and offered another tight smile. She needed to get out of there before she made things worse. "I just really want those shoes," she said as she twisted her fingers before her, her eyes pleading with the blonde to see that she was sincerely not angry.
"Okay," Tara said softly, an embarrassed half smile pulling at her lips. Did she really think Willow would say anything other than, 'no?'
Willow hesitated, unsure whether Tara believed her. She wanted so badly to further reassure the blonde, but if she got any closer, if she touched her, maybe a friendly pat on the arm, she'd kiss her. She wanted to, to kiss her, to feel her lips on hers. Her eyes again were drawn to the blonde's lips. She'd kiss her, and Tara would push her away, or kiss her back, and Buffy would walk out and see them kissing and– "You'll tell Buffy?" Willow asked, backing up slowly towards the door, her brows raised hopefully. She hoped Tara believed her.
Tara nodded. "Of c-course," she said kindly, uneasy with Willow's answer and exit. Something felt off.
Willow exhaled with a smile. "Okay. See you later," she said, again awkwardly waving before turning and leaving the apartment. Tara could only nod, and watch the redhead leave.
Minutes passed and Tara stayed rooted to the spot. She was struck still, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The avoidance, the hurried exit as soon as she entered the room... It hurt more than she had expected given how she had prepared for the possibility since she woke up. Her brow furrowed. But the look on Willow's face when she asked if she had done something wrong... It was pained, tender. It wasn't just someone trying to smooth over an awkward situation; there was something else there. She exhaled, her mind a mess of jigsaw pieces that didn't fit together.
"Where's Will?" The voice startled the blonde. She looked up to see Buffy walking into the room wearing a robe, her wet hair done up in a towel.
"She left," Tara answered distractedly, slightly dazed by the redhead's demeanor and hasty exit.
"For where?" The petite blonde asked, her own voice laced in surprise.
"Shoe Biz."
"And she couldn't wait for me?" Buffy complained as she crossed to the kitchen counter. "Somebody woke up grumpy."
Tara twisted her face in annoyance. "You didn't even call last night."
"But, donuts!" Buffy said, pointing to the untouched bag on the counter. The blonde only frowned in response. "I know," the petite blonde said, her shoulders sagging. "My total bad, it's just, Riley and I got to talking, and... other things... and I didn't even think it was that late until it was–"
"Morning?" Tara gently reproached as she walked to the kitchen bar. She sighed and rolled her eyes. She couldn't blame Buffy for being happy and in love. "You should have called."
"I know," Buffy said with a resolute head nod. "And I'm gonna make it up to her today. Mochas on me."
Tara nodded wearily with an eye roll. Typical Buffy solution.
"So what did you get up to after the museum?" Buffy asked, opening the bag of donuts.
Tara was immediately overwhelmed by memories of the previous day. Of Willow's smile, her body pressing into hers. Her laugh, her voice. She shook her head, deciding to abridge the day. "We walked down to the Beach Chalet and had dinner."
Buffy turned to the blonde, her eyebrows to her hairline, a donut in her mouth. She pulled the pastry from her lips and covered her mouth with her other hand as she spoke. "You spent the whole day together?"
"Yeah," Tara said softly, remembering how natural and perfect the day at the park felt. Confusion flooded her mind as she thought about this morning's version of Willow, and what she had overheard during the night.
"That's definitely above and beyond best friend behavior," Buffy lauded, taking another bite. "Thank you," she said, powdered sugar coating her lips.
"You don't need to thank me, Buffy," Tara said, a quirk in her brow. It had been her distinct pleasure.
"I know the not calling was a total oops," Buffy said. "But it's kind of cool that my best friend and my other best friend had fun together, right?" She took another bite of donut.
The blonde sighed. "You really should go find Willow," Tara said, avoiding the question. "She seemed really upset."
Buffy nodded as she took two more big bites. "Going soonish. Thanks, Tara."
The blonde nodded and reached over to the bag of donuts. She absently looked through them but passed, her stomach knotted from stress.
"What are you getting up to today?" the petite blonde asked, wiping her mouth on a napkin.
Tara closed the bag and turned to the blonde. "I'm going to head down to campus. I have to turn in my Anatomy portfolio."
"Okey dokey," Buffy said, tossing the napkin in the trash. "Do you want to head over from here or meet there?"
Tara frowned. She had forgotten about drink plans with Buffy and Willow tonight. If it was the Willow from the phone call... "I think I'm gonna take a raincheck," she said carefully.
"Uh, no," Buffy corrected. "You have to come. It's end-of-school-year drinks, and this time they are in a bar."
"Buffy," Tara demurred.
"We've been going out to celebrate the end of classes every year we've been here," Buffy pressed. "Classes are over, it's time to celebrate. There is no rain to be checked."
"I think you should just spend the day with Willow," the blonde tried.
"And I will—today—but tonight is our night. We are celebrating," Buffy insisted. "Besides, Willow would feel awful if we cancelled just because she's in town. She knows this is important."
Tara sighed. "Fine," she said, not wanting to let the girl down. She'd just have to deal with whatever version of Willow showed up.
"I like winning," the petite blonde said, giving the other girl a hug. Tara rolled her eyes as she patted the smaller girl's back. "So here, there?" Buffy asked as she pulled away.
"I'll meet you there," Tara said. She could use some time to think, and being at home with Willow and Buffy was not where it would happen.
"Okay, there at 7." Buffy turned quickly and disappeared down the hallway and into her room.
Tara slid onto one of the bar stools and reopened the bag of donuts, gingerly plucking a jelly donut free with a sigh. She took a bite and chewed slowly, wondering absently why Buffy hadn't thought to bring home coffee, as well.
- isn't awesome).
forever!
Thanks for the quick update and feel free to continue that pace. 
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