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“I am, you know.”
“What?”
“Yours.”
She’s never felt this nervous around another person. Except maybe Spike. Or Angel, with the whole no-soul-incident. Definitely Faith. And possibly vampire her — but she doesn’t think about that. No. She totally doesn’t think about that. No thinking there. Because she’s from an entirely different universe, and has nothing in common with her, no, nothing to do with her.
But she’s not afraid of Tara. The opposite; Tara’s magnetic. Every time they do a spell she can feel the energy between them grow stronger. It’s a terrifying, stomach-churning, fluttery feeling that nothing seems to help, even when they’re apart. Normally that kind of feeling would send her running in the opposite direction. Not with Tara. It… feels like something she wants. Despite all better judgment. And it scares her, so much.
Still, when Tara smiles, and takes her hand, and says, “Stay a minute,” it’s hard to say no. “Let me read you before you go.” She glances toward the tarot deck, still spread across her sheets.
Willow desperately needs guidance, and she'll try anything to get it. Tara sits her back down, across from her, and shuffles the cards with a practiced delicacy. She flips the first card.
“Your past… Two of Swords. Upside down. Recently… you had to make a decision about a r-relationship in your life. There was deceit, and nothing seemed like the right choice. But letting go… made you stronger.”
Willow lets out a heavy breath. She sounds so confident when she does this, it makes her want to stick around for hours and let Tara read every inch of her mind. Not to mention that it’s true. Except the stronger part — she doesn’t feel stronger. Not after Oz.
Tara turns the next card, and smiles. “Wow. The World. Right now you’re at the end of a big cycle of your life. It’s a pause; a break before a new beginning.”
“Is that good?” She really hopes it’s something good. She needs good.
“I-it is, usually.” Tara purses her lips as she sees the final card, letting out a little puff of air. It’s subtle, but Willow notices. She’s seen something that alarms her. Please don’t be another apocalypse.
“Um… T-the Page of Cups. It’s… a renewal of creative energy and new emotion. Upright, it would mean you’re ready to face a f-fear. But, um, upside-down, like this… you have a lot of strong emotions that are too powerful to k-keep in.” She pauses, and takes a breath, gaze kept strictly on the cards in front of her. “All of this new energy shows… someone new in your life will have a great impact on your f-future.”
Willow’s limbs feel like jell-o. Like someone stuck her in a blender. Shake contents well before opening. She always trusts her senses, but now, they’re scaring her; they’re telling her Tara’s the one that’s going to change her. Willow thinks she already has.
“All things considered… s-sounds pretty good.” It’s no apocalypse, but it sits on Willow’s shoulders with the same weight. She needs to know; what this is, what they are.
“Tara?” she asks, tentative. “Can I ask you something?”
Tara tilts her head to one side. “What’s up?”
“When did you know that you…?” She can’t say it. It makes it too real.
“That I…?” She looks confused.
Willow begs the universe not to clue her in. Without thinking it over, something in her mind just snaps, and her body follows, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and scrambling to grab her stuff. While she’s fairly certain there’s a notebook and pen of hers on the floor; her lemon-scented candle still burning on Tara’s bedside table — she leaves it all, letting the panic take over. “Nevermind, it was a stupid question, um, I gotta go.” She stands, backpack wrapped in her arms, shuffling towards the door and hoping she doesn’t trip or drop anything; make even more of a fool of herself. She doesn’t—
“W-wait, Willow.” Tara’s hand wraps around her wrist, gentle. “You can ask me.”
Willow turns to face her, still clutching her backpack like a little kid, fumbling with the zipper. She stares at the interlocked teeth, counting them one by one — anything to keep her focus from drifting to Tara. “When did you know you didn’t like boys?” The words spill out of her mouth without a second thought.
Tara’s still holding on to her wrist, just barely. It burns.
“Oh,” Tara breathes. “I-I just never did.”
But Willow did. She crushed on Xander for who-knows-how-long, right? And there was Oz — it all feels like so long ago. Nothing feels like this. Willow can’t meet her eyes, but she can sense Tara looking at her. She wonders if her heart is beating just as fast. “No, I mean…” The words still won’t come out.
“I… I don’t know. It just kinda… hap-happened?” She sounds so nervous.
Willow is — nervous, that is. Tara’s grip has fallen to hers, palm loosely wrapped around unyielding palm. It would almost be too easy to weave their fingers together. It's too easy to picture it; imagine how it might feel. “And… you’re okay with it?” Her eyes widen, and her brows soften. She didn’t plan this. She didn’t plan for her.
Tara lets go of her hand and wipes her palms on her shirt. “Y-yeah… we-we don’t have to talk about it… if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No!” Willow answers on impulse, far too quick, and far too forceful. That’s not what she meant. “I mean… it doesn’t… make me uncomfortable.” It does — it makes her heart flutter, and her palms sweaty, and her mouth dry — she doesn’t tell Tara that. “You’re my friend… I wouldn’t…”
“Oh,” she sighs, her breathing calming down, “Good.”
It takes all of her strength to keep going. She centers her mind and body as she would to prepare for a spell, setting down her bag again, letting go of the tension in her fingers, through her palms, all the way up her arms and through her body. She lets herself sit back down on the edge of her bed, relief crashing through her like a wave. It surges again as she speaks; “When… when we do spells t-together…” She hasn’t stuttered like this since high school. “You feel it too, right?” The pull? The spark?
“I…” Tara sits next to her, quiet, hand resting just next to Willow; reaching out.
She swears she feels the very tips of Tara’s fingers brush her thigh, and it’s almost electric. She’s held her hand before, palms pressed together for a spell — almost, just a minute ago; she’s touched her before, casually, like friends do. It’s never felt like this. It’s not like this with Buffy. It wasn’t like this with Oz.
“Always,” Tara answers.
“Do you know what it means? Like… are we gonna blow up your room someday? O-or accidentally turn ourselves into toads? ‘Cause I don’t think we’d get our tuition back and I don’t think they teach toads…” She’s rambling. Stupid, stupid, brain, all jumble-y and mushy. She knows what it means.
Tara’s response is whisper-quiet, words jumbled together, as her eyes meet Willow’s. “I think it means I like you.”
Willow hears it loud and clear. “Oh.” She can feel the blood rush to her face.
“I-is… that okay? I can… I can leave if—”
Willow doesn’t have the mental strength to point out that this is her room. “Yes. I mean no! I mean…” She sighs. “Don’t leave.”
Tara bites her lip, like she doesn’t know what she’s supposed do next. Willow doesn’t either. But she does know what she wants.
She kisses Tara, and it’s as soft as her words; as brilliant as her mind; as magic as their spells. It’s a century later, and also far too quickly when they pull apart. She knows it only lasts a second, even so, she swears she can’t breathe. This is that spark — what she feels every time they practice together — the feeling in the pit of her stomach that keeps her up at night, wondering if she’ll ever feel normal again. She wants more of it.
“That was…”
“Nice.” You kiss a pretty girl, and suddenly forget how to speak, huh?
“Really nice,” Tara agrees.
“I… have to go,” Willow whispers, suddenly overwhelmed again, the feeling coming over her with a shudder. But she doesn’t move. She kissed a pretty girl. And she so desperately wants to do it again. Forget everything; forget Buffy, and Faith, and the whole damn universe for just a second.
“Will…” Tara says, hand reaching out to cover her own. Deliberately, this time. Like everything’s changed. It has. She’s soft, and warm.
It’s terrifying. More so than any vampire or demon. Willow pulls away, panicked, and grabs her backpack off the floor, again, heading for the door as she swings it over her shoulders. Her hand touches the doorknob, and she freezes. It’s terrifying because she wants it. She turns back, and Tara’s already there, face to face.
“If you need time…” Tara starts.
Willow lets out a deep breath, and shakes her head, the movement barely articulated, lips slightly parted. Her hand reaches out for Tara’s face, palm resting against her chin so smoothly, it feels like they were made for one another. She kisses her again; deeper, like she means it, this time. She can’t speak, and all she can hope is that her lips have said enough. She means it.
“Then… stay,” Tara says, almost silent, fingers brushing hers.
She reaches for the knob behind her, twisting it and cracking the door, letting in a stream of light, hitting Tara’s pitch-black walls. “I want to,” she decides. It’s not that easy. “But I… I do need to go talk to Giles.”
Tara tucks her hair back behind her ear. Willow can see the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Okay.”
The second the door closes behind her, everything sinks into the pit of Willow’s stomach; that second, it becomes real, not just a moment in her room, suspended from time. The second she leaves, she knows it's going to be that much harder to approach her again. But she can breathe again. For now.