by She's a Star
Disclaimer: It's Joss's. Duh.
Author's Note: Yet another little challenge drabble from me. This time the words were smoke, words, and satin. Takes place sometime in the middle of season four. I haven't ever written W/T before, so forgive me if it's abysmal.
She barely noticed.
It was subtle, and nice; she woke up one day to realize that her heart wasn't quite aching the way it had before. Tentatively, she tested herself.
Oz is gone. Oz is gone. Oz is gone, and you have no idea where he is, and he could very well be having crazed-puppy sex with some slutty werewolf chick somewhere.
It still stung, but only a little. A paper cut instead of a stab wound.
She tried a smile, and found herself beaming.
"Hey, Will," Buffy greeted her. "Someone's cheery."
And she was.
Tara was coming over later, just to talk. Just to talk. Willow liked that. She liked talking to Tara, and listening to her speak - the way she stumbled slightly over her words, and occasionally ended statements like they were questions. There was something childishly sweet about her. Willow was kind of reminded of herself - the way she'd used to be, the way she still was, sometimes. She'd hated her shyness, and had learned to hide it well as time passed. But maybe, she thought when she was with Tara, it hadn't been so bad after all. It was quiet, and soothing, and pretty. It lit something inside of her, and made her think that maybe things weren't so terrible after all.
Maybe they were actually kind of beautiful.
They talked about silly little things; old movies and textbooks and cigarette smoke.
"It's really gross and unhealthy, and all," Willow said, sitting cross-legged on the bed and feeling tiny currents of magic as her hand accidentally brushed Tara's. "But I used to think Audrey Hepburn was so glamorous in Breakfast at Tiffany's, with the black sunglasses and long cigarette holders. I wanted to be her. She was a lot better than me, that's for sure," she added, a bit glumly.
Tara bit her lip, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm . . . g-glad you're you," she said finally, almost tentative.
Willow grinned, not quite sure what to say, but maybe words weren't always so important. And Tara smiled back - a small, shy smile that somehow made Willow positive that they were both radiant. And maybe Audrey Hepburn was gorgeous, with her cigarettes and gloves and satin gowns.
But maybe there were other beautiful things, too.