Author's Note: My take on Willow and Tara's first kiss after the lights go out in 4x19.
Willow POV.
This is my first time writing Tillow, so I'm sorry if it's out of character or anything of the like.
"I feel horrible about everything I've put you through. And I'm gonna make it up to you. Starting right now."
She smiles and blows out the candle, making the dark wash over you. You can't see anything, but the heat of her body leaves your proximity, and suddenly it's much colder in the room than what you thought.
You can hear some rustling and you prepare to call out for her, when the floor creaks; steps moving closer to you, and then, hands find a home on your waist, gentle and persuasive.
She draws you to her, the only sounds in the room the squeak of the old wooden floor as you move closer and your slow, deep breaths as you finally arrive face to face.
You still can't see her, but you can feel her body only centimeters away from yours, and you can hear her smile as she softly whispers your name.
Your hands reach out to her shoulders, and then slowly start a journey upwards; your fingers skimming over the material of her shirt, until they reach her neck, where your hands lock behind it.
Both of you start moving closer one another, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, and it feel like you're trying to cross the Grand Canyon not just a couple of meaningless centimeters.
Except they're not.
Even though they should be. You fight the forces of evil on an (almost) daily-basis. You've kissed Oz hundreds of times. You shouldn't be afraid of some nice Tara-smooching.
Yet somehow closing that objectively insignificant distance seems harder than trying to open the Hellmouth on your own.
Without magic.
Yet as you seems stuck in your paralyses, her hands find the small of your back and between the moment your heart stops and the moment a silent gasp slips out of your mouth, her lips find yours, and it's like nothing you've done before.
Your hands come forward from their little hideout, and before you know what you're doing you're cupping her face and kissing her back, moving closer to her, until your entire bodies are touching.
It's slow and tender, but it ignites a fire inside of you; a heat blooming in your chest that slowly spreads to your limbs, until it's suddenly extremely hard to stand up on your own two feet.
Her lips linger on yours, not exactly kissing but not pulling away either. You breathe in deeply, and you're engulfed in her presence.
Your eyes open but this time it's not darkness that meets you.
It's a serene face only centimeters away from yours, with eyes that got just a little bit teary on the edges. You look around you to see that all the candles in the room mysteriously (though you do have some theories on how it could have happened) lit up.
You smile and turn to face her once again; and you kiss her just as she opens her mouth to say something. You can feel her smiling against you, and after only a few moments your face mirrors hers against your will and you need to pull away.
"So am I on the right track?" You ask. Your hands move down to her neck and you start drawing mindless patterns with your thumbs.
So soft. How is she so soft?
"Huh?"
You smile and lean your forehead against hers. "With making it up to you."
She smiles, too, before kissing you again.
And it's so sweet and tender and nice, you get a little heartbroken when she pulls away.
And even though she doesn't answer, you know.
You've been on the right track all along.