**Sivi27: Fan Club? Website? Money? Nope, nope, and nope. However, I never have and I never will consider any kitten a stalker ... unless, of course, anyone shows up at my house with a camera And thank you *G*
**Web Warlock: 40's? Plan on it. This one is actually future, but near future. And yes - they'll be together forever.
**frenchrose888: LOL ... I'm glad I could make 'Rose' a happier name for you *GGG* And you're welcome.
Series: Vignettes
Number: 4
Title: Morning
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Willow wakes up earlier than usual
Spoiler Warning: None … set in the Future! Ooooohhhhh …. Aaaahhhhh….
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters. I do, however, love them, and as they reside in my heart, they belong to me. I'm not making any money off of them, though.
Rating: PG-13
Morning
Part 4 of the Vignettes Series
by Sassette
Willow’s eyes blinked open quite without her permission and she frowned, groaning as she turned over onto her stomach, burying her face into the pillow. She grumbled nonsensically into the fabric for a moment until she really needed to breathe, then turned her head sharply to gain access to much-needed oxygen, bits of her red hair falling into her face.
“Oh, God, no,” she whimpered, her eyes falling on the digital alarm clock on the bedstand.
It was early.
Too damn early.
No sane person was awake at this hour.
Which, of course, proved unequivocally that Tara was insane. But in a good way. In the best way. In a delightfully quirky wonderful way, Willow mused, a small grin quirking her lips despite her attempts to keep hold of her awake-too-early bad mood.
But how could anyone think of Tara and not smile? Five years later, and she certainly couldn’t, and so happily gave up the effort as a lost cause and let the smile grow, a light laugh escaping her. Not that anything was funny – no, waking up too early without the side benefit of having a Tara in the bed with her was no laughing matter – but she was happy.
Deliriously so.
She stretched and yawned for a moment, shaking her head to get the hair out of her face, then settled back into the warm bedcovers. But it was no use. She was awake now, and once awake, there was no going back, even though Sundays were the only days she could sleep in, and she had been using that opportunity for a little extra sleep for a year now, and she needed the time. With a huff of breath, she pulled herself upright and clambered out of bed, groaning when her knee creaked, protesting the movement.
That, Willow decided like she did every morning, was really the worst. One lucky hit by a had pretty much shattered that knee, requiring all kinds of reconstructive surgery. Tara had taken the opportunity to pamper her shamelessly while she had been recovering, and now the tiniest hint of a limp and a few aches in the mornings and during bad weather were the only indications anything had ever been wrong in the first place. And if that was the worst, Willow would gladly take it.
Tara was, of course, already awake. How anyone could get up this early on the weekend, Willow honestly had no idea, but Tara had risen early on Sundays ever since Willow had surprised her with a house. It was just a fixer-upper, and nothing to get too excited about, or so Willow had thought at the time, but when she had driven Tara here, she had ooh’ed and ahh’ed over every little detail. And when Willow had told her it was theirs, Tara had cried.
Only once had Willow attempted to rise early with her lover to watch the sun rise and to find out exactly what it was Tara did with these Sunday mornings, but after taking on look at Willow’s grumpy morning-face, Tara had laughed and sent her back to bed. And so it remained a mystery, with Tara refusing to explain anything beyond the word ‘gardening’ unless Willow wanted to get out of bed on Sundays and see for herself.
Willow’s grin shifted and changed into a slight smirk, her eyes gleaming as she remembered half-jokingly telling Tara that she would go back to bed only if Tara joined her – and the truly wonderful and amazing morning that followed.
Definitely worth getting up for.
Smiling at the memory, she picked up her pajamas, which were lying on the floor where Tara had tossed them the night before, and slipped them on, then grabbed a robe and wrapped it around her.
She made her way to the window, easing back the curtains and peeking into the back yard, expecting to see Tara there, kneeling in her garden and tending to her flowers.
The sight that greeted her was that, but so much more.
A red-gold hazy glow lit the back yard, the sun just barely rising over the treetops in the distance, outlining Tara’s profile and making her hair gleam brightly. The mist lingering along the ground gave the whole thing an otherworldly appearance, drifting upward and burning off as a light wind waved strands of Tara’s hair around her face.
Willow’s breath caught at the sight, and a soft smile stole across her face, her eyes greedily drinking it all in, taking a mental picture of this moment and tucking it into her heart for safekeeping.
She watched for a few long minutes, until she realized that Tara’s lips were moving, and she had no idea what she was saying. Carefully, Willow cracked open the window, the faint sound of singing just barely reaching her ears, teasing her mind with the fact she could not name the song.
Go join Tara? Just watch some more? Or leave Tara in peace to continue her usual Sunday morning gardening?
Willow frowned thoughtfully. After four years of living together, they had each set up in their own mind when and where it was okay to interrupt the other. Without being told, Tara never stopped Willow’s work when her office door was shut, though Willow certainly wouldn’t have been bothered if she had, and Willow never ever bothered Tara when she was painting.
It was funny, really, how alike they were, yet so different at the same time. Willow would lose herself in lines of code, the almost arcane syntax pulling her in, just as Tara lost herself in lines and curves and colors. These things were sacrosanct, and shared only to the point where each appreciated the others gift in their chosen life’s work.
Which brought Willow to her problem. She had always seen Tara’s garden as a living work of art – so interrupt, or not?
She looked on, biting her lip as her brain raced itself in circles, weighing the pros and cons of going down there and joining Tara in the garden. A light shiver shook Tara’s form, and Willow realized with a start that Tara wasn’t wearing a jacket to ward off the cool morning chill, and she grinned. Surely, bringing Tara something warm to wear couldn’t be considered interrupting?
With a grin, she went to the closet, throwing it open and grabbing a jacket, leaving the bedroom and practically flying down the stairs, and to the kitchen.
And there was the door to the porch, giving her pause. Slowly, she eased it open, slipping outside onto the porch, Tara’s song reaching her ears easily now, though she still didn’t recognize it. Quietly, she crept down the stairs, a loud creaking noise alerting Tara to her presence.
A half-smile graced Tara’s features, and her eyes seemed to take on a warm glow as she turned her head and saw Willow standing there, a jacket in her hand.
“It’s early,” Tara said softly, her half-smile blooming into a full grin, and Willow’s reservations about bothering Tara while she was working melted away under the warmth of that smile.
“It’s cold, so I thought I’d bring you this jacket, which you should be wearing, because that’s what jackets are for. It felt all lonely and sad sitting in the closet, when its one purpose for existing is to keep my baby all warm and snuggly on chilly Sunday mornings, but here you were, kneeling on the cold ground without it, and so I thought I’d help it out so it could help you ward off snifflies and colds and other not good things,” Willow said, a little smile quirking her own lips. She moved to Tara’s side, kneeling next to her and slightly behind her, holding out the jacket and waiting patiently until Tara rolled her eyes and slipped her arms inside.
“Thank you,” Tara said softly, half-turning to kiss Willow lightly.
“Good morning,” Willow said softly, wrapping her arms around Tara and hugging her, just because she could.
“Good morning,” Tara greeted in kind, turning more fully and slipping into the embrace. Her hand slipping up, cupping Willow’s warm cheek, stroking the soft skin there with her thumb. “You never get up this early,” Tara said softly.
“Maybe I had a dream where you, the fair damsel in distress, were fighting the evil warriors of colds and flus, and only I, and my trusty jacket, could save you,” Willow said, turning her head to nuzzle Tara’s hand, kissing the palm lightly.
“My hero,” Tara said softly as Willow turned her head back to face Tara. “How can I ever repay you for saving me from the dastardly evil warriors of colds and flus?” she went on, batting her eyelashes outrageously.
“I believe smoochies are the usual payment for heroic services and daring rescues,” Willow said seriously.
“Smoochies? Are you sure? Not, coffee, or, umm… muffins?” Tara teased.
“You made muffins?” Willow asked, her eyebrows shooting up and a grin crossing her face. “I love your muffins.”
“Oh, well then, I’ll just go get some for your payment,” Tara said, starting to rise, only to find herself unable to move when Willow’s arms tightened around her, keeping her in place.
“Oh, no,” Willow said, shaking her head vigorously. “I love your muffins, but I need your smoochies like I need air – they’re completely essential to a happy well-balanced Willow.”
“Oh, well, we can’t have a Willow that isn’t functioning properly,” Tara murmured, her eyelids growing heavy and sliding half-shut as she tilted her head slightly, leaning in ever-so-slowly.
“That would just be … wrong,” Willow whispered back, her own eyes closing when Tara’s lips captured hers, sliding together, then apart, then together again.
Willow sighed against Tara’s mouth, as Tara kissed her slowly and thoroughly, giving her the sweetest smoochie-payment for daring rescues and miscellaneous heroic services in the history of good guys rescuing fair damsels in distress.
______________________________________
I Think The Hellmouth Tastes Like Chicken -- Autumn
)
you Sass 
