Title: Everywhere
Author: drama-princess
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters and situations are property of Mutant Enemy, etc.

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because you're everywhere to me.
~michelle branch

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Put your hand against mine, Willow directs, and I swallow before extending my fingers. We've held hands before, for spells and such. Lately our touches have been lingering for just a second longer than we need them. I-- I don't know what that means. I know what I want to think it means. But Willow's told me stories about Oz and Xander, and I--

I don't know. All I know is that I-- I want to kiss her. I want to hold her, and I want to dance with her and-- and-- I don't know.

Okay, good. Willow glances down at the spellbook she has on her lap. We've drawn a pentagram on the floor with flower petals, and a few are scattered on her sleeve. I sniff the air. I can smell the incense burning in the corner, and the rose oil that I like to use for anointing the chalice. It's pretty cozy, actually. Almost romantic. I wonder if Willow set it up this way, and then I make myself think about something else. The way the flames twist the light, and throw these little shadows on Willow's face, the way her hair is loose and her eyes are sparkling. . . it's. . . it's pretty. It's beautiful, just like she is.

I never knew that love could be so . . . lovely. It's a stupid way to put it, but every time I'm near Willow I have to stop and stare. I'm transfixed. She moves so gracefully when she casts the spells. Or the way she leans her head against her hand when she reads a book. And sometimes she brushes her hand against mine when she reaches for the popcorn. Accidental touches. Just like in the movie that we're watching.

Now, we-- She stops and looks at me. Just like that. I've never seen her stop like that in the middle of a spell. But she doesn't move. She just. . . sits there. Her mouth is open a little bit.

I think I used too much oil for the chalice, because I can smell it too much. The whole room smells like roses. It's too raw. I tighten my grip on Willow's fingers. I ask quietly. I try not to speak too loudly -- what if she's in some kind of trance or something? Should I-- oh, I don't know what to do. It was just going to be a little spell, just something to soothe and calm-- what was the spell supposed to do?

I repeat, easing my grip on her hand just a little bit. Are-- are you okay?

she asks then. She looks at me like she's searching for something, and she forgot where she put it. Or something. But it's important, I can tell. Something she's wanted to ask-- oh, please don't let her have suspected, please let her think that-- oh, please, Goddess, please, no.

Can I-- can I kiss you?

The whole world stops. Or at least I think it does. The candles stop flickering, and I stop smelling the oil. Willow's hand is starting to shake beneath mine and she must be wondering why I'm staring at her like this. But I don't know what to say. It's like somebody's held out this piece of bread when you've been starving, but you don't know if it's real or if it's just you imagining. When maybe they're laughing at you behind their sleeves. And this is nothing like bread, it's. . . everything. She drops her hand.

If-- if you don't want to, I understand, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. . . she sounds like she wants to slap herself. I should say something to reassure her, but I just. . . she's so beautiful. Oh, I'm such an idiot.

I manage to get out. Willow blinks at me, looking childishly lost. I scoot a little closer to her, and the flower petals are all messed up, but that's okay, I think. I-- I'd like that.

Willow says softly, and I watch as she hesitates.

I-- I'm not very good at this, she says quickly. She puts her hands on my face. She's so, so warm, and suddenly she's moved forward too, until our knees are just barely touching. My hair swings forward until it falls over my shoulders. I think that I should probably push it back, but it's Willow. Here. Everywhere.

It's okay. I think I say that. Neither am I.

We look at each other for a long moment, and it seems to stretch out for so many miles.

Then Willow leans forward. Just barely. We're not very far away from each other. And her lips touch mine.

It's that easy.

Somehow I thought it would be harder. Willow tastes like salt and sugar all mixed together. I put my hands on her face too, because they seem like they fit there, and our mouths open and close together. It's soft. And slow. And so, so sweet. My eyes are closed, but I can just imagine Willow on the other side of me. Kissing me.

My head tilts with Willow's. We're still fixed to each other, kissing like there's nothing else out there. And there isn't. Not right now. Her bottom lip moves, brushes against mine. I feel myself shiver more than I realize it. Her breath comes out in hot little puffs against my skin.

We pull apart, slowly. I tilt my head back like I'm needing the last few drops of water. I don't want to let go. I don't ever want to stop kissing her. I need more. I want more. Goddess. She's so beautiful.

she whispers. She wraps her arms around me, pressing our bodies together. I lick my lips. I can still taste her there. I think I'll always be able to.