So here's the next installment, not really sure what this is going to be yet, but I am enjoying writing it!


"You're going on that date tonight?" Faith said, her legs swung over the arm of her sofa, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her stomach.

"Yeah" Willow said. She was perched on a bar stool in Buffy and Faith's kitchen, her fingers clinging to the edge of the stool as Buffy tried to put her makeup on. Willow didn't like to admit it but she was kind of hopeless when it came to this kind of thing, it was all she could normally do to brush her hair and make sure her clothes weren't wrinkled, especially in the morning (Willow was not a morning person).

"You nervous?" Faith said, getting up off the sofa and walking into the kitchen.

"You can't tell?" Willow said, laughing nervously, trying to keep her eyes open as Buffy applied her mascara.

"It'll all be great" Faith said, wrapping her arms around Buffy's waist and planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Faith you're making it smudge!" Buffy said, laughing.

If Willow was being honest maybe the Buffy-will-you-please-do-my-makeup had been a bit of a cover-up for Buffy-and-Faith-will-you-please-spend-time-with-me-before-the-date-because-I'm-hella nervous. Just being around them settled her a bit, she didn't think you could find a more chilled out, casual person than Faith, and Buffy and Faith's place always felt homely to Willow (despite the utter lack of homely features; in reality it was just furniture in an empty room and a few boxes, and the endless echo of onedaywewillgetroundtoitIpromise)

"There you go!" Buffy said, standing back as if admiring her work. "All done"

"Beautiful!" said Faith, "You'll be great Kid" she said, punching Willow on the shoulder.

"I'm older than you!" Willow said indignantly.

"Nah you're like our little baby," Buffy laughed, "like proud parents sending you off the prom"

"Before you know it she'll be graduating college" Faith grinned.

"You guys are insane" Willow said, smoothing her skirt as she stood up. "But I look ok?" Buffy rolled her eyes for the seventeenth time that night, "You look amazing, it'll be fine, I promise." She pulled Willow in for a hug, "Now go out and get her tiger."

"Tiger?" Faith raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know it seemed appropriate."


Willow was stood outside the cinema and Tara was approximately six and a half minutes late. Willow knew this because she had checked the time on her phone. Fifteen times to be exact. If she was counting, approximately twenty other people had entered the cinema and three had come out (A puzzle; iftherearetwentypeopleonthebusandthreecomeoffandonegetsonehowmanyareleft?) And she was sure each and every one of them had looked at her (though they probably hadn't even noticed). She didn't know what to do with her hands. She saw one guy meet a date and he had brought flowers, a beautiful pink and yellow bouquet of flowers. She hadn't thought about flowers. She hadn't known she should have brought flowers. Were flowers etiquette? But then where would she have put them. Oh god. She looked at her phone again. Approximately seven minutes late. Oh god what if she didn't come. Willow felt her face go red. To say she was nervous was an understatement, she was sure you could hear her heartbeat across the other side of the city, a calling siren for misfortune.

The cinema was an old one on the corner of Fillmore Street, art-deco, with that classic aesthetic look. It was a beautiful place to be. Normally it reminded Willow of History and Art and Film and Home but right now, she could only focus on the slight shake in her hands and the pounding of her heart.

And just at that moment where Willow's nerves started to teeter from jitters to panic, Tara turned the corner, her hair down in a way Willow had only seen a few times, the light hitting in the right places, reminding Willow of the way that rivers reflect light on a warm day, sort of slow and soft, like chalk across paper, smudging. Willow felt her heart skip a little bit (what a cliché) and her lips involuntarily turn upwards into a grin. Tara wore long earrings than on a second look appeared to be feathers, and a long denim skirt with a flowered blouse. The weather was starting to get a little warmer and Willow was reminded of how she'd only ever really seen Tara in her long trench coat, in snatches and peeks through the book shelf. This felt a little like a new chapter. Spring: the birth of the new.

"Hi" she said, hearing her own voice faltering a little.

"Hey, good to see you" Tara said, producing a bunch of daisies from behind her back, "I got you these." Damn. Flowers. So they were etiquette. Why was she always so far out of the loop?

"Thanks," Willow said, taking the flowers, "I feel like such an idiot, I didn't bring anything."

"It's fine, I know Daisies aren't like t-traditional flowers but I thought they were pretty – especially on a day like today."

The air was warm but with a slight breeze, spring.

"Shall we go in?" Willow said, resisting the urge to take Tara's hand. It was too early for that. That she at least knew.


The film they were watching was reasonably old and in French, and was based on a book Tara said she had read (to which Willow had to resist the urge to say; I know I saw you buy it.) It was slow paced (as most French films are), but seemed to have a sort of beautiful quality, a possession of a small bit of magic, a spark. Willow didn't know what it was, maybe it was simply the romance of the French language going to her head, or maybe it was the atmosphere at the art deco cinema. (But when Willow watched the film back at a later date alone, she saw none of the magic she saw that night – which lead her to believe that maybe the magic had nothing to do with what was playing on the screen but rather the girl sat next to her, (and their hands which were inching closer and closer)). She felt her eyes drifting from the screen and was instead watching Tara's face, the small twitching of her lip, the little glow in her eyes.

"Uh, Willow" Tara whispered, startling her slightly.

"Yeah"

"You're supposed to be watching the film, not me" Tara grinned, and Willow blushed so hard she could only thank god that it was too dark for Tara to see the extent. Instead she only laughed slightly under her breath, feeling her hand brush against Tara's (which by the end of the film would be entwined in her own.)


"Can I walk you home?" Tara said, her hand still entwined in Willow's (in a move neither of them were directly addressing)

"Only if it's on your way home."

"Of course." (A white lie couldn't hurt, Tara thought, and beside she didn't want it to end (oh god another cliché), she wanted to hold Willow's hand for as long as possible (and how could that be a sin.))


"And he just started singing?!" Willow said, a small ripple of laughter going through her.

"Absolutely, a café full of people, me rushing around at our busiest time, and there he is atop of the table, belting out a tune."

"That's so weird, do you know why?"

"That's the best part –" Tara laughed, her whole face lighting up, "Apparently he was part of a flash mob, but he was in the wrong café,"

"Nooo"

"Yup he was supposed to be in the one on 34th"

"Oh god – that's gotta be so embarrassing."

"I've never seen anybody so red." Tara smiled, as the pair came to a stop outside Willow's gate, Tara swinging around to face her. "I've had a really nice time" she said,

"Me too." Willow said. There a beat of silence. Oh god etiquette. Was she supposed to kiss her? Is that what Tara would expect, is that what she'd want? Oh god Willow knew she wanted to, but she was so rusty when it came to dating, in fact rusty probably didn't cover it, her previous experience consisted of kisses in corn fields when they thought no one was looking. Oh god. What to do. What to –

and then Tara was kissing her, her lips soft and chaste and tasting vaguely of peaches, just long enough for Willow to be surprised before she pulled away.

"Was that okay?" Tara said, looking a bit bashful.

"It was nice." Willow said, leaning down to kiss her again, longer this time, their lips moving together, it felt soft and nice and – bang!

Willow turned to see her cat again, his head tilted slightly to the side, banging his paw against the window. Man he sure did know how to pick his moments. Tara laughed,

"Somebody wants your attention"

"Always" Willow smiled, unable to draw her eyes away from Tara's.

"So I'll see you again?"

"Of course" Willow said, swinging open the gate, and unlocking the door with a final wave towards Tara (who waited till she was out of sight once more to turn the opposite way).


There were five text messages on Willow's phone, all of which were from Buffy and Faith.

Good luck on the date

How's it going?

Don't forget to call me I want to know exactly how it went.

Every. Single. Detail.

Did you kiss? Was it great? Ahh.

And then from Faith…

Ignore Buffy she seems to think she's the dedicated best friend in a romcom lol, she's so excited I swear I'm going to have to restrain her.

Still hope it goes well for you.

Willow smiled, settling onto her sofa, pulling Captain Jack Sparrow (the cat) onto her knee and dialing Buffy and Faith's number.


Thanks for reading and please leave a review it helps a lot!