Title: Untamed Love
Author: mmmh-Hot-Sauce
Rating: Nc-17
Disclaimers: I don't own any of the Buffy characters.
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Summary: Willow, a penniless hipster with a love for Elvis meets a mysterious woman. Falling in love, she makes it her mission to dispose of her new lovers past.
Feedback: Yes! I would love your feedback! All feedback is welcome!
Chapter 11
The early morning swirls of pink and orange mingled together as the first rays of sunlight danced across the hood of the white Ford Thunderbolt that was parked in the farthest section of the Jewelry Stores empty parking lot. The owner of the car belonged to the security guard who ran the night shift before two fresh-faced men straight out of high school swapped with him for the morning.
Just as the sun started to break over the horizon, the back door to the aforementioned building banged open, disturbing the quite that had settled over the town during the night. As the rusty door squeaked open, a tall slouched shoulder man in his early fifties stepped out into the crisp morning air, a Styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee in one hand and his car keys idly swinging around the ring finger of his other hand as he whistled an unidentifiable tune. Taking a step forward, he reached behind him with his right foot, kicking the door closed. Pausing for a second, he listened to the sound of the metal clicking shut and the alarm system activating with the sound of three load distinctive beeps. With a satisfied smirk, he proceeded to make his way towards his car.
As he reached the driver side door of his vehicle, he placed his now half empty cup of coffee on the roof of the car as he positioned the ignition key in the door lock slot. Just as he was about to unlock the door he caught sight of his own reflection in the tinted windows, his expression glooming immediately.
The image reflected back to him through his own car window showed a ghost of a man he used to be. His handsome visage long forgotten as the years of mistreatment from his "good old days" took their toll on his worn down body. The years off of the force, not having been any kinder to him, now that he thought about it. Hours behind a desk, slouched over a TV monitor with nothing to eat at such late hours except for convenient store candy and fast food takeout was also doing a number on him. His body was no longer muscular like it had once been. His "chick magnet" body from twenty years ago now consisted of a slopped back, a grey receding hair line, and a beer belly from an alcoholic problem long overcome.
His mood dimed even further as he took in his receding hair line, wrinkled forehead, and the crow's feet adorning the corners of his eyes. With his hand that had been previously holding the coffee cup, he slowly raised it to his thinning hairline. Gingerly he ran the tips of his fingers through his no longer red hair, the transgression from vibrant auburn to speckled gray seeming to happen overnight.
With much distain, he lowered his hand to his side, his knuckles brushing against the itchy texture of his pants. With a deep breath of indignation he casted his eyes downwards to the mockery that was now called his "uniform." No, not even his uniform, but a hammy down from a previous employee long gone. The color no longer the same shade it once was, but instead a dingy grey which could never be compared to the pristine navy blue he once used to wear. No. Everything about this "uniform" was all wrong, right down to the silver name plate attached to his lapel. The name plate, with his name "IRA" imbedded in bold, was another slap to his ego as he though back to the gold shield and number he used to wear that actually meant something.
With a deep sigh, he removed the cup of coffee from the roof of his car. Opening the driver side door, he gingerly lowered his bulky frame into the bucket seat, inserting the key into the ignition. Carefully placing the Styrofoam cup into the holder so as not to spill it all over his immaculate vehicle, he shifted the car into drive and drove out of the parking lot, all-the-while resuming his whistling from earlier, the tone sounding much somber than before.
After twenty minutes of navigating through the vacant town, he rounded the corner to "Shady Meadows" trailer park. The place he called home, a rusty no longer moveable camper, was located in the middle of the small, run down complex situated close to the train tracks. Those that still lived in the park either didn't mind the 5am wakeup call every morning, or they were just too broke to move anywhere else.
As Ira maneuvered his car slowly down the gravel pavement, a figure sitting a-top a parked car in front of his home caught his attention. Bringing his car to a stop, he stared for a few minutes at the figure he thought he would never see again. As he shut his car off, a little, bitty tear escaped from the corner of his right eye and rolled down his cheek as his emotion started to choke him up. As he watched the figure a-top the care slide off the hood and saunter in his direction, he swiftly removed the tear from his face with the back of his sleeve.
Reaching the driver side door, the new arrival bent down and stuck their head through the rolled down window. "Good morning, Daddy, long time no see."
"Willow" Ira said in an airy tone, the sight of his daughter after so many years making it hard for him to breathe. "You're … you're all grown up."
"Yea, that's what happens when eight years go by." Willow said aloofly. "Anyways pops, sorry to barge in on you all unannounced, but we really need your help." Willow casted a glance back at her car where Tara still sat in the passenger seat.
Sensing the urgency in his daughter's voice and the worry in her eyes, he motioned for her to move away from the car so he could open the door. Stepping out of his vehicle, he casted a look at the unnamed blonde before looking back at his daughter. Slamming the door shut, "let's go inside."
Signaling to Tara to follow, Willow fell in step behind her father as the duo walked up the weed invested pathway leading to his mobile home. As they climbed the two chipped makeshift steps made out of cement block leading into the trailer, Ira fidgeted with the keys looking for the one to unlock his front door. Pushing open the mold splotched wooden door with a load squeak, Ira looked sheepishly behind him at the two girls, motioning for them to follow him inside.
As all three enter the trailer home, Ira hastily moved around the cramped space trying to tidy up. Walking over to the couch, he scooped up an arm load of clothing, depositing them in the corner where a dirty pair of boxers already laid before gesturing for the girls to come sit. "Excuse the place; I haven't been entertaining company as of late" Ira said solemnly as he picked up an empty can of soda and placed it in a half filled trash bag.
"It's fine," Tara said humbly as she gingerly stat down on the edge of the couch.
"No problem pop," Willow replied as she brushed crumbs off the couch cushion. "My place isn't much better."
"Sorry if I'm coming across as a little dense here, but you're the last person in the world I expected to see this morning" Ira said, finally stopping his haste cleaning, a crumbled bag filled with McDonald wrappers in one hand.
"Oh, that's fine, Dad. I tend to have that effect on people." Pushing off of the couch, she walked past her father into the little nook classified as the kitchen. "I'm dyin' of thirst, you got anything to drink?
"There might be a Pepsi in there. Not sure if the milk is good anymore." Ira said.
Rummaging around the rust bucket of a refrigerator, she moved the expired container of milk to the back of the fridge, making room to see what else there was to drink. Pulling out the can of diet Pepsi, she looked at it in disdain. "Anything stronger?" she asked her father with a raised eyebrow before immediately correcting herself. "Oh, probably not.… Beer? You can drink beer, can't you?"
"I can," Ira replied honestly with a soft sigh, "but I don't."
Placing the can of soda back in the fridge with a shake of her head, "That's about all I ever drink."
Shaking his head at his daughter, Ira walked out of the joint kitchen and into the living room. Looking at the girl sitting on his couch with a sweet smile on her face, he realizes they haven't yet been introduced. "I'm sorry …. I'm Willow's father," he said as he walked closer, his right hand stretched out before him.
"That's okay, I'm her wife," Tara replied with a nervous chuckle as she shook the older Rosenberg's hand vigorously. "Tamara Macley, pleased to meet you" she said sincerely as she pumped his arm up and down like a used cars salesman.
Stepping back into the living room, with a bunch of little, chipped, ceramic fruit magnets in her right hand, Willow bee lined for the available space on the couch besides Tara. Throwing her free arm around Tara, she looked up at her father wiggling the finger on her newly inked hand. "Oh yeah, we kinda got married." Avoiding any questions that might come from her father, "You still have these!" she asked with surprise, referencing the magnets.
Looking away from her father whose face was etched in a perpetual state of shock, she turned to Tara with a wide smile on her face, "This isn't a complete set anymore. When I was five I swallowed the pomegranate one because I wanted to know what it tasted like."
"Oh my god, where you alright?" Tara asked, her eyes widening in shock.
"Ah, yea, I was fine," Willow said modestly. "Completely wigged my mom out though."
"That's putting it mildly," Ira scoffed as he recomposed his demeanor. "She was completely bat-shit insane with worry. Of course, after three hours of telling her mother that everything was going to be fine, did she finally calm down and stop phoning every doctor in the yellow pages." He smiled fondly before grimacing, chucking a disgruntled thumb towards his daughter. "And then a week later, this one had to go and eat the banana."
"Ah, I remember that." Will said fondly, with a wide smile. "I never did shit that one out. I guess it's still there?" she said, poking her stomach in wonderment.
"Willow, wh…" Ira started.
Cutting off her father, Willow removed the arm draped around Tara's shoulder. "Loverdoll, why don't you be a sport and go get us some beer. I want some beer." Digging her free hand deep into her pants pocket, she removed some money for the blonde. "Do you want some beer?" She asked her father as she handed over the wad of crumpled up bills. "Well, if you want some it's here."
"Go to the liquor store…" she paused in hesitation before turning to her dad. "Where is there a liquor store around here?"
"Uh, ... there's a party store on the corner of 33rd and Bleaker," the older man rattled off as he stood up. Removing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he walked over to a chair positioned up against the far wall as he lit his smoke.
"Okay. Uh, babe, can you get a six-pack of something imported? Preferably Fosters. If they don't have that, ask the guy at the counter what their strongest imported beer is.
"Mr. Rosenberg, would you like me to pick you up anything while I'm out?" Tara asked her father-in-law sweetly.
"Oh, no thank you dear." Ira replied back with a soft smile.
"Hey Tare, since you're already going out, would you mind too terribly if you did a food run as well? I'm starvin' to death." Willow asked Tara, her lower lip poking out a little in a form of a pout.
"Sure, anything in particular?" Tara asked, the question directed to both Willow and Ira.
"What do you think would taste good?" Willow asked her father.
"I'm really not very …" Ira started to say as he pulled his cigarette away from his mouth.
"You know what would taste good?" she said to the blonde. "Chicken! I haven't had chicken in a good long while. Chicken would really hit the spot about now. Chicken and beer, definitely, absolutely, without a doubt."
"Okay," Tara responded, adding a head nod for extra emphasis. "Where's a good chicken place
around here?"
"I'm not sure actually." Ira said, scratching the back of his head as he contemplated where a chicken place might be.
"You don't know where a KFC is around where you live?" Willow asked in disbelief. Directing her attention back to Tara, "ask the guy at the liquor store where a chicken place is." Reaching back into her pocket, she pulled out more money and the car keys, handing both over to the blonde. "This should cover it, love."
"Okee-dokee. I'll be back soon." Tara said as she leant over to give Willow a quick peck on the lips. Straightening back up, Tara gave a tightlipped smile to Ira before heading to the door and walking out.
As Tara retreated through the trailer, Willow watched her backside with a cocked head. As soon as the door to the mobile home closed, Willow turned her attention back to her father. "Isn't she just the sweetest girl you ever saw in your whole life? Is she a four alarm fire, or what?"
Clearing his throat, Ira answered a little uncomfortably. "She seems very nice."
"Dad, nice doesn't even begin to cover it. In fact, nice is an insult." Willow said exasperatedly, her hands flailing around wildly. "She's a peach. I mean, she even tastes like a peach. You can tell I'm in love with her, can't ya? I bet you can tell by my face, it's a dead giveaway. It's practically written all over it!"
"Yes, I can tell." Ira replied, his voice even and low.
"Well that's good!" Willow said, missing the tone in her father's voice. "Cause ya know what? She loves me back. I swear, this is like the …"
"Willow, just shut up, you're giving me a headache!" Ira grouched out, effectively cutting off Willow's ramble. Standing up, he walked over to where is daughter was sitting, snuffing out his cigarette on one of the dishes piled up on the coffee table."I can't believe how much like your mother you are. You're your fucking mother through and through." Ira said exasperated, his right hand vigorously rubbing his forehead.
"I haven't heard from you in eight years and you show up all of a sudden at my doorstep at seven o'clock in the morning. Not only that, you walk in here like a Goddamn tornado... don't get me wrong, I'm happy to see you...just slow it down." He huffed out, his annoyance with his daughter finally off of his chest. With a demure smile, he took a seat on the chair opposite of where his daughter sat. "Now, do you want to tell me about you and the blonde? What's the deal?"
"Daddy, uh …" she started to say. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly as she shook her head back and forth, her body sinking back into the worn down couch cushions. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she forced herself to look up into her father's dark green eyes. "Dad, I'm in big fuckin' trouble and I really need your help."
Another short update. Hope to have another one up soon. Hope you all liked it. Please, tell me what you think!
