Author: Ozluv04
Title: Words
Disclaimer: These characters and places belong to the master, Joss Whedon. I own nothing.
Warning: Femslash, only is it really? I mean it's Willow/Tara, they are canon after all.
A/N: I should probably get my Willow/Oz shipping license revoked for this, but I like Tara too. I've wanted to write W/T for a while, and this is what came out. It's short and set during season four, pre-Hush and post-Hush. First person Tara POV. Feedback welcome. Enjoy!
After I saw Willow for the first time, after I heard her speak in that cute, rambling sprawl-I went back to my room and thought about what it would be like to talk to her. I imagined it would be a steady stream of words. Big words and little words and words that only existed because she had the ability to dream them up. She would twist them and bend them, stretching them to encompass even their most obscure meanings. I would be quiet mostly. Soaking up her words like sunshine. Occasionally smiling and nodding. Stuttering out a few words of my own, but not too many because I can't imagine what it would be like to speak all of the words I think.
We would talk about everything. The magicks of course. And the blessed be Wiccas in our group. But other things too. Books and classes and politics and love. Any subject that crossed our minds. We'd just keep talking, all afternoon and all night. In the morning we would get pancakes and french toast, and she would talk about the absurdity of only having one or the other. Even after breakfast the words wouldn't stop. We would keep talking all the way to class.
It was harder for me to imagine saying goodbye to Willow, so instead I imagined that we skipped our classes. Then we dropped out of college and hopped on a plane to England where we joined a real coven. Then we got a little apartment and I told her all my secrets and she told me all ofhers. And like in the fairy tales we lived happily ever after, only without the prince.
It's funny then that when I truly met Willow we couldn't say a word. But we spoke without speaking. We acted in tandem, we spoke with our gestures and our eyes. We didn't need words to communicate, we didn't need words to save us. We moved a vending machine with a touch and a thought.
That night I went back to my room and I thought about Willow. But this time her words were touches. They were lips on my skin, and fingers entwined with mine. They were her arm wrapped around my waist, they were her head resting on my shoulder. They were words sweeter than any words were meant to be, and we spoke them without making a sound. There was silence like a flannel blanket wrapped around us as we slept. And even the silence was words, words with bodies instead of voices.
It was hard to say which daydream I preferred. The truth is the next time I was with Willow, I decided I would only be happy if I had all her words. It was up to her how she chose to express them.