Kiss
"Wilsoooon!"
Wilson Percival Higgsbury turned to the source in equal parts exasperation and amusement. Willow was trailing a few steps behind him, currently fending off an overstuffed Chester from licking her. He liked doing that.
"He keeps licking me!" she explained, trying to shove Chester off her for the hundredth time now. It was a good thing that the eye-bone was unharmed in the entire fiasco the day prior, and now they had the lovable creature back.
Well, Willow might not have shared his sentiment entirely.
"Perhaps you taste delicious," he offered, half jesting. She eyed him wonderingly, as if debating whether it was an insult or compliment, or a mixture thereof.
The trek was going as planned – more or less. Days were longer with the approach of spring, and snowfall had greatly subsided as well. These two facts made the journey immeasurably more pleasant than it would have been otherwise.
They were relocating to a different spot which would prove vastly superior to their old one. Not only were resources greater, but the geographical location made it highly defendable. Which was to say, it was literally in the centre of nowhere so they would be able to see something coming from miles away.
"What's that?"
Wilson looked to Willow, and then to where she was pointing. Squinting, he could see some eggs off in the distance. Puzzled, he walked over and inspected them. He accidentally poked a hole in one. They were rotten – definitely inedible, unless they wanted food poisoning.
This was a former breeding ground, as evident by the thin layer of ice. The eggs were no doubt abandoned by their parents as the seasonal change started occurring. These were the ones who did not hatch – the weak. The harsh law of Mother Nature even stretched to Maxwell's twisted domain.
But perhaps Wilson could benefit from it.
"Willow, do you have some space left in your backpack?"
She was crouched behind him, and looked at him with a question on her face. It went unasked however, and she dutifully checked her backpack for space. There proved to be some left.
"I think I have a little bit left," she remarked absently, then gave him a quizzical look, "do you want to take these eggs?"
He nodded and proceeded to collect the items, careful not to break the outer shell. When he was finished, he walked to Willow studying him with furrowed brows.
"Wilson?"
"Yes?"
"I think these are rotten." She indicated the eggs in his arms.
"Your assumptions are correct," he replied easily, still holding the eggs. She studied his impassive face carefully, trying to understand his angle. He could be such a tease at times.
"Then why are we gathering these?"
"I do not intend to eat these," he paused, licking his lips, "I have another use for them."
"Like what?" she asked dubiously. Instead of answering, he gestured for her to turn around. She did as asked, and he started packing the eggs into her backpack. With a pat on her back signalling he was finished, she turned to face him.
He winked at her, "It's a surprise."
How mysterious.
Shrugging as nonchalantly as she could, she relented. She would find out eventually, one way or another – it was just a matter of keeping her curiosity in check while she waited. Easier said than done.
"Let's keep moving – and don't fall with the eggs, the smell will never wash out."
She skipped along with him, her inner child showing itself for once. Wilson grinned happily at her carefree antics, enjoying the change in atmosphere. Too much darkness had shrouded them yesterday, but Willow was jumping back remarkably well. He pondered his feelings for the girl beside him.
She was… fun to have around.
There was a time he would have regarded her with little more than contempt, nothing more than a nuisance. Now she was valued companion, an individual that pulled her own weight, an anchor keeping him grounded in reality, his equal.
Perhaps not an intellectual equal per say, but certainly a personal equal.
Though, he knew his feelings delved deeper than simple companionship. A casual brush here, a subtle compliment there. How his gaze lingered on her movements, tracking her doing the most mundane of tasks. His perpetual scowl melting into something softer when their gazes crossed.
That was more than enough evidence required to validate his theory.
Dying had simply put everything into perspective.
At first, he was disgusted by this change. He, a man of science, could not be wooed by a simple girl! Emotion had no place in science! It clouds judgement, and no emotion more volatile than love. And he was succumbing to it.
Even now he was in the process of doing something for her. Wasting time and resources on an endeavour to simply see her smile. He argued with himself that it was for their morale, and that would increase their chances of survival by a significant portion.
Yet, there was one thing he wished to address before he committed to this route. But not now. Timing was everything, even in endeavours not wholly scientific in nature. He would wait patiently for the opportune moment.
Willow studied Wilson out of the corner of her eye, his gaze was fixed on the ground as they walked, and he looked as if he was thinking very hard. She chose to leave him be for the time being, he probably liked the silence anyway, and it was comfortable.
He smiled.
"This will do nicely."
#
"Whatcha doing?" a voice cooed.
Sometimes, he had to admit, her curiosity could become slightly overbearing. She was looming over him in their new tent, much more spacious now, while he worked on the table.
Then a thought occurred to him, something that would both keep Willow out of his hair for a while, and prove entertaining to her pyromaniac side.
"Willow, could you do a favour for me?"
She rested her chin upon his head. He tried not to think of her chest firmly pressing into his back. By nature, he was still a man. On the other hand, he wondered why she had become so direct with her advances – it's as if she had taken a minor personality change overnight.
It had left him slightly off balance.
"Anything for the gentleman scientist," she purred into his ear. He had never heard her 'purr' before, and it was unexpectedly different. Her hands found their way to his shoulders and she rubbed him affectionately, smoothly.
He cleared his throat, somewhat perplexed by her actions. "C-Could you gather some charcoal for us?"
Wilson could tell that she was smiling, even if he could not see it. "Sure, how much do you need?"
He frowned, looking at the rotten eggs and nitre littering his desk. He gave her a rough estimate, and she nodded in understanding. Reluctantly she pulled her hands away from him and turned toward the exit.
"Try not to burn a forest down," he called after her.
Mimicking him under her breath, she left the tent and walked into their new camp. As expected, a brilliant fire signalled the centre of it. It was getting a bit low, so she added two logs. She felt faintly infuriated with Wilson.
She was giving him the signals, and being damned forward to a ridiculous degree – but it wasn't working! Maybe typical signals didn't work on him, or worse, maybe he wasn't interested.
Shaking her head and clearing her mind from the thought, she walked to a trio of trees.
A trio of trees.
She quite liked that. Flicking her lighter out, she set the first alight in a practiced motion – then paused to watch her handiwork. She mulled over her approach with Wilson while the trees burned.
Maybe he just liked submissive girls.
This resolution to capture Wilson's heart came to her the evening before, while she cuddled with Wilson in the bed. There was nothing remarkably different from all the other nights, but maybe it was just how his arm tugged at her waist at the smallest angle that set her on this course. Perchance how his breath tickled her ear ever so slightly.
Or perhaps it was the fact that he died, and came back to life.
That could be it.
However, she was certain that she loved him. It was just a pity it took him dying for her to realize it.
Chewing her lip, she thought to play the submissive card when she got back. Even the asocial scientist should be able to discern her motives somehow. The trees were finished burning, and she inhaled deeply, savouring the smoke of the wiry carcasses.
Dutifully, she started hacking at the trees with her golden axe. It looked pretty, and lasted much longer than its inferior counterpart. It didn't take her long to fell the trees; she scooped up an adequate amount of charcoal and waded back to the camp. She wondered what he was working on, he was being particularly secretive today, more so than usual.
As she walked back, she studied their camp with a pleased smile on her face. It was glorious. Well, she didn't think it to be possible to get so much done in a single day after arriving at their new location, but Wilson had been adamant in setting up as quickly as possible.
"We can't afford to be lax in our own safety."
And now they had all of their basic facilities in place: crockpots; chests; firewood; tent; racks for jerky; science and machines… she still smirked as she thought of Wilson's naming for the various apparatus, and most importantly – a huge fire pit.
Encapsulating their camp was a low stone wall, more than enough to keep the lesser demons at bay, or at least give them adequate warning before an attack.
Inside, Wilson worked on the tiny cylindrical tube he fashioned out of a log. His wood carving skills were nothing to boast about, but it would be adequate for the task he envisioned. He heard Willow step in, and saw her carrying more than enough charcoal to suit his needs.
She propped it on his worktable unceremoniously, and looked at him. Just looked at him. No expression readable and he stared back – unaware of what was transpiring, if anything was. Eventually he settled to break the silence.
"Thank you, Willow"
She nodded once, and propped down onto their bed. She knew he was not going to tell her what he was working on until he felt ready, and after all, she was playing the submissive role for the time being. So she absently lay on the bed, literally twiddling her fingers while Wilson worked.
Wilson used a makeshift mortar and pestle to crush the various ingredients, and started mixing them into the correct ratio for the substance he intended to create. It didn't take long, however, for Willow to tire of doing nothing.
"I'm bored."
"Read a book," he replied, not skipping a beat.
Surprised by the speed of his reply, and then by his actual response. They didn't have any books. Not counting Wilson's journals of course, but he'd never let her read them. They were probably filled with science-y contraptions which wouldn't hold her interest for long in any case.
"Wilson," she said slowly, "We don't have any books."
"Then write a book to read."
Her forehead creased in thought, was he… teasing her? His responses were in their trademark deadpan manner, signalling he was deep in thought, but they hinted at something else. It sure seemed like it. He must be happy with the speed at which they set their camp up, or something. She decided to play along.
"Gimme a piece of paper and something to write with, then."
He paused in his work, retrieved the various items from a chest near the table and carefully tossed them to her.
"I'm not a very good writer," she admitted after a while, chewing the end of the pencil. A bad habit she has yet to rid herself of.
He did not respond immediately – stuffing down the powder into the tube with a wooden rod, and using a hammer to compact it with several loud bangs. She was going to say something else but he spoke first, "Draw something instead."
She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it. That was actually a feasible idea. Now what to draw, or rather, to doodle, she thought to herself. Not being especially talented in artistic aspects, she went back to her roots.
Fire.
She knew how to draw fire quite well, mostly from spending ludicrous amounts of time perfecting it. So she started on her endeavour, making sure she got the tips of the flames just right. It wasn't long before she had a beautiful flame in the centre of the page – and she kept herself busy on adding details, shading.
Pleased with her creation, she looked up to see Wilson still working on whatever he was working on a half hour ago. The man was a bloody perfectionist. Huffing, she looked around the tent for something else to draw. In the opposite corner lay Chester, definitely not. The beast had licked her so many times she was afraid she'd smell like Chester drool forever.
Her gaze swept around the tent, and unsatisfied, settled back to the piece of paper on her lap. Then she heard something clatter, she looked up, Wilson had dropped something. He picked it up and resumed working.
This gave her an idea.
She watched him work, taking special note of his posture and movements, then she started a rough sketch on him. She worked slowly, intending not to make any mistakes – she didn't have an eraser. Eventually, the gentleman scientist took shape on the paper. His lanky limbs, his intense studious eyes, his hawk like nose all crafted with precision.
Liberties were taken with his hair, however, the tree tips jutted out more than necessarily, and they looked more like flames than hair. She thought it was a cute touch, seeing as she had already set his hair alight once.
By accident, of course.
#
"Willow?"
She moaned, and rolled over. It was too early to get up. Or too late? Either way, it didn't matter, she was too tired.
"Willow?" the voice repeated a smidge more insistent. Two hands snuck out and found their way to her shoulders, grasping gently but firmly.
She opened her eyes, gaining her bearings. She was in the tent, and Wilson was looming over her. Groggy eyes regarded him blankly.
Mm, she didn't remember falling asleep.
She looked down, and saw the drawing of Wilson face down on her lap. Everything clicked into place, and she felt somewhat overwhelmed. Wilson was regarding her with curious eyes, and a smirk.
"Sleep well?"
She grumbled something in reply, and sat up. Her muscles felt stiff from working overtime. In the corner lay Chester, still sleeping soundly with his Eye-Bone in mouth.
"So," he drawled, "What did you end up drawing?"
His hand reached for the paper, but Willow seized it before he could grab it. She felt embarrassed, for some reason. Out of all the things she could have drawn, she drew him – and she was playing the submissive card now, wasn't she?
She cheekily stuck her tongue out to him, "Secret."
Wilson looked surprised, but his expression geared toward neutrality in the span of a few seconds.
"Touché."
She rubbed her eyes, working the sleep out of them, "So, did you finish your little project?"
"I did indeed, and I wish you to accompany me so I may unveil my surprise."
She blinked a few times, and nodded. Did he… make something for her? Well, it wasn't unheard of, but usually he didn't spend so much time and effort on it. Nodding, she got up and put on her gear and Wilson did the same.
They ventured out into the wilderness, a little bit away from the campfire. They followed a path leading further into the forest, the trees here were different. Wilson hoped his calculations were correct, otherwise the result would be somewhat underwhelming.
He inhaled deeply, calming his nerves. He felt like he was testing a hypothesis, and if it worked, would result in an astounding discovery. But if it failed, it would probably blow up in his face.
Literally, and metaphorically.
He doubted Willow would mind either outcome, and he as a scientist viewed failure as a crucial part in moving forward, but he wished to set the correct mood for this. Sometimes you just didn't want to make a mistake.
They came onto a clearing, and he could see Willow was getting a bit nervous. Night was about to descend, and the unspeakable horror that lurked within it. They were quite a distance away from their camp too.
"Wilson, I think we should go back now." She said, flicking out her lighter and studying the sky worriedly. Her lighter might have an infinite source of fuel, but it was a tiny flame – not enough to provide sufficient illumination or heat.
He smiled modestly at her, "Just wait for a moment."
And so they watched the sun disappear over the horizon, but instead of being shrouded in darkness, they were caked in a twilight glow. Willow was quite taken aback by it, not expecting it at all, and stood gawking at her arms and the grass around her before turning back to the sky – and to the moon.
Wilson extended his hand to her, gesturing for her to hand over her lighter. She did so because she was curious to what he was up to. His hunch was correct; studying the moon cycle had paid off. The moon provided more than enough illumination to suit his purposes.
Onto the next phase of the plan.
"Now close your eyes."
Now she displayed some reluctance, but out of anxious anticipation more than anything else. What was he going to do? Wilson gave her a moment as she entertained the various scenarios she thought he had in mind, but then she obeyed and closed her eyes.
"No peeking," he said, a tiny warning.
Willow gulped, what was he planning? Maybe he wanted to kiss her. No that couldn't be it, could it? She heard him moving around, away from her. What was he doing? She then remembered he had asked for her lighter… and felt a tiny surge of anger, and disappointment.
If this was some stupid experiment to do with her resistance to fire, she'd punch him.
Hard.
"You can open your eyes now."
She did as requested, and opened her eyes. Wilson was standing beside her and smiling contentedly, and he pointed to his creation – the fuse burning steadily. Willow watched transfixed by the idea of what was to come.
Suddenly the fuse vanished and a shower of sparks erupted out of the top of the firework, sending large pieces of molten coal across the sky. Willow was hypnotised by the display – though meagre by nature, the idea that Wilson would spend so much time and energy on something for her was astounding.
And for what? Just to make her a bit happier.
"Not
"That was amazing." she exhaled sharply, eyes wide and mouth plastered into a Cheshire grin. She turned to Wilson to see him regarding her with a smirk, and her cheeks flushed, aware of her childlike behaviour.
"Yes. Simply beautiful."
"Wilson, you weren't looking at the fireworks."
"I know."
The mood set, Wilson opted to make his move.
He brought his calloused palm to her face and caressed her cheek. She let him, even though his hand was freezing – and trembling slightly. The firework was finished now, only the shadow of a flame lingered. Both held each other's gaze, intense but soft at the same time. It was Wilson who took the initiative and gently pulled Willow towards him – it was the only prompt she needed.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him roughly. Though inexperienced, she made up for it with passion. Wilson was surprised by the sudden assault and clashing of lips, but he regained himself and joined in.
And then, the firework exploded.
Though not deafening, per say, it was enough to distract the duo from their current activities. Wilson let out an unmanly yelp while a slight gasp issued from Willow, followed by the disinterest of a pyromaniac who's had too many explosions in her time to be fazed by it. She did feel disappointed though, they had stopped kissing.
This gave Wilson a brief moment of time to clear his throat, and his mind, he frowned, "That... wasn't supposed to happen."
The mixture at the bottom might have been a tad bit unstable, improperly rationed to be frank. Well, at least it didn't blow up immediately. While he mulled over the imprecise measurements, Willow had her own mind wrapped around something entirely else.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
Those words put her mind into an endless loop, and she couldn't break free from it. Instead she constantly replayed them in her mind. Maybe he was just humouring her, after all, she initiated the kiss. Did that mean he pitied her? She did not like pity. These internal emotions all externalized themselves on her face, and it was quite the face.
He must have felt the aura of insecurity emanating from her, or maybe he just saw her 'deer-in-headlights' combined with the disgusted curl of her mouth.
"I meant the explosion!" he assured hurriedly, grabbing her shoulders and facing her. He did not want her to get the wrong idea. Brilliant choice of words, he sarcastically praised himself. It seemed to reassure her somewhat, and lull her out of her self-imposed stupor. A small smile, nervous but confident at the same time, appeared on her face.
"So… the kiss, you meant that?" she ventured hesitantly, studying his eyes for any sign of uncertainty.
He nodded once, not a hint of doubt in his eyes. "Yes. I meant that."
Each tangled with their own thoughts on the other, but Willow quipped with another question after a while.
"Since when?"
He scratched his head in thought, "To be honest… I don't really know. I've never… done this sort of thing before." Or even cared for it to begin with, he added mentally.
Willow felt a strange surge of pride, knowing that she was probably the first – and only – person to make Wilson fall in love.
"If I had to choose a moment," he continued sagely, "I'd say after I died and came back to life."
"Pity we were interrupted," he mused to himself, concluding his answer.
Willow rolled nervous lips between her teeth in preparation for what she was about to ask, "Want to… go again?"
His voice faltered only marginally in his reply, "Yes."
And so they kissed again.
Finally having to break free of the kiss for the sake of air, they were both hit by a sudden realization as they locked gazes.
An epiphany of sorts.
They knew what brought them together – at base, two very different individuals. It was their absolute acceptance and appreciation for each of their respective passions.
Wilson had his science, and Willow had her fire.
Just as Wilson never made fun of Willow while she enjoyed her fire, Willow never mocked Wilson for his science. Never in a serious manner, anyway. Instead, Wilson loved watching Willow as she toyed with fire. Seeing such unbridled passion on her face rejuvenated and fascinated him.
Willow liked hearing how excited Wilson became in matters of improvement and designs for future contraptions, even though she couldn't comprehend the technical aspects of it. She could feel the flame in his heart burn fervently with desire for his science.
Both knew how was easy to be labelled as a social misfit when you pursue your passion indiscriminately of other people's opinions. Willow understood now, why Wilson sought solitude by distancing himself from others and living all alone in a rickety old shack.
Wilson realized why she spoke so little of her friends back in plane of reality; she had few or none at all. She tuned out their harsh criticisms; he knew this because he had walked this path before.
And in the most unlikely of places, they had each found a kindred soul.
They realized, with great joy, they had finally found each other.
Bet some of you thought I gave up on this ;)
Well I didn't and I'm pretty sure you already know what's going to happen from the title. I hope it doesn't come off as too sappy, I tried really hard to come up with a deeper reason for the relationship between the two - and I think I delivered it quite well.
Thanks for all of the reviews and such, I'll try to update this more frequently. Rest assured, I don't like abandoning stories - so I will finish it.