Reach Out
author: Lucinda
rating: pg, pg 13?
pairing: Willow/Logan (X-Men) (QPC 126)
the site:
disclaimer: I do not own anyone from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I do not own Logan, he belongs to Marvel comics/entertainment.
distribution: Quickie Challenge, WLS, NHA, Bite Me please? Twisting the Hellmouth
note: set post sason 6, post X-Men the movie.
QPC Theme for January: New Year, the number 2003, winter time, ice skating, resolutions, champagne/alcohol, hangovers, parties.
The coven in England hadn't been able to help her, not the way that they'd hoped. They'd managed to pull her back from the edge of madness, the lonely place that she'd been teetering in her pain and grief. They'd told her something that she hadn't known, that not all of her power came from magic. She used something else as well, something that could only be some sort of inborn ability.
The nice senior witches had been to polite to use the term mutation. The younger ones had whispered it, not certain what it would mean for a witch to have both mutant abilities and magic. The idea had unsettled them, leaving some afraid, others envious, and one of them in awe at the potential Willow had.
She'd felt their unease, once her emotions and heart had healed enough to care. They weren't quite certain what to think of her. She'd learned what they would teach her, and decide to move on, to leave the coven and travel the world. Not just to see thing and places, although she'd always wanted to see Rome and Ravenna and Pompeii, but because she needed to figure out who Willow was. Not the research girl, or the slayerette or scooby, not the witchy firepower, but Willow.
She'd arrived in Italy in the winter, the snow leaving everything covered with a pale layer, sparkling and glorious. She'd just sort of meandered around, practicing ice skating, and dropping in on a few parties, watching people drinking wine and beer and having fun. She'd remembered how to dance, and had joined a bit of the celebrations, laughing and smiling with the strangers she'd find herself in the midst of.
New Year's Eve found her in a half-deserted bar with a few scattered people, all of whom seemed to have found their solitary way into the place. One of them sat down near her, a man with wild dark hair and a feeling of pain almost radiating from him.
It had turned out that one of her mutations was a something almost like empathy, except that an empath could only connect to a person, while she could get feelings from people, animals, demons, objects, places... and this man carried an enormous amount of pain.
Willow looked at him, part of her remembering how the old Willow had always wanted to help anyone that was in need, even Spike. Another part urged that she not reach out, that she avoid making any contact with another person, least they reject her like the scoobies had.
She looked over at the man, noticing the way he had a pair of small metal objects on a chain around his neck, objects that reminded her of dog tags. He seemed to trace over them, as if in a nervous habit or as if trying to fathom some deeply hidden mystery.
"Can I buy you a drink, stranger?" She tried to keep her voice light, to hide her own pain, but a single glimpse of his eyes told her that she'd failed, that he knew of her own pain just as she knew of his.
He looked at her, as if trying to find any hidden motivation she might have, any hidden demand that she might try to place on him.
"A drink sounds good." His voice was a bit rough, as if he wasn't used to talking.
By the time several hours later, when it was almost New Year's, he glanced over at her. They'd exchanged some minor, nearly meaningless chatter, he was Logan and she was Willow, and neither of them were from around here. Traveling for personal reasons. "So, Willow... it's almost the new year, almost two thousand three. Got a resolution?"
"Hmm... yeah. And I've had enough of these that I might even have the courage to act on it." She was smiling at him, trying to flirt just a little, uncertain if he'd notice.
There was the sound of cheering as the year turned, and Willow smiled, her eyes surely sparkling with mischief. She reached over and grabbed Logan by his shirt, pulling him close enough that she could kiss him, her lips moving over his as if she had to memorize the taste and feel of his mouth.
"Happy New Year, Logan."
"Not that I'm complaining, but what kind of resolution is that?" He was staring, his eyes filled with a complex blend of emotions, including passion and desire.
She traced one finger over his cheekbone getting a half image of shining silver metal. "I wanted to reach out, to make contact with someone. To feel like I'm still real and alive and actually a person instead of a walking memory."
"If you want any help with that, I wouldn't mind offering a little reassurance for you." There was a definite suggestion in those words, an almost stated offer to take her to bed with him, to feel passion and pleasure and just... to feel.
Normally, she would just blush and retreat. But she was healing, and gaining in confidence. She had grown past the girl she had once been. "I think that sounds good. Your hotel or mine?"
end Reach Out.
author: Lucinda
rating: pg, pg 13?
pairing: Willow/Logan (X-Men) (QPC 126)
the site:
disclaimer: I do not own anyone from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I do not own Logan, he belongs to Marvel comics/entertainment.
distribution: Quickie Challenge, WLS, NHA, Bite Me please? Twisting the Hellmouth
note: set post sason 6, post X-Men the movie.
QPC Theme for January: New Year, the number 2003, winter time, ice skating, resolutions, champagne/alcohol, hangovers, parties.
The coven in England hadn't been able to help her, not the way that they'd hoped. They'd managed to pull her back from the edge of madness, the lonely place that she'd been teetering in her pain and grief. They'd told her something that she hadn't known, that not all of her power came from magic. She used something else as well, something that could only be some sort of inborn ability.
The nice senior witches had been to polite to use the term mutation. The younger ones had whispered it, not certain what it would mean for a witch to have both mutant abilities and magic. The idea had unsettled them, leaving some afraid, others envious, and one of them in awe at the potential Willow had.
She'd felt their unease, once her emotions and heart had healed enough to care. They weren't quite certain what to think of her. She'd learned what they would teach her, and decide to move on, to leave the coven and travel the world. Not just to see thing and places, although she'd always wanted to see Rome and Ravenna and Pompeii, but because she needed to figure out who Willow was. Not the research girl, or the slayerette or scooby, not the witchy firepower, but Willow.
She'd arrived in Italy in the winter, the snow leaving everything covered with a pale layer, sparkling and glorious. She'd just sort of meandered around, practicing ice skating, and dropping in on a few parties, watching people drinking wine and beer and having fun. She'd remembered how to dance, and had joined a bit of the celebrations, laughing and smiling with the strangers she'd find herself in the midst of.
New Year's Eve found her in a half-deserted bar with a few scattered people, all of whom seemed to have found their solitary way into the place. One of them sat down near her, a man with wild dark hair and a feeling of pain almost radiating from him.
It had turned out that one of her mutations was a something almost like empathy, except that an empath could only connect to a person, while she could get feelings from people, animals, demons, objects, places... and this man carried an enormous amount of pain.
Willow looked at him, part of her remembering how the old Willow had always wanted to help anyone that was in need, even Spike. Another part urged that she not reach out, that she avoid making any contact with another person, least they reject her like the scoobies had.
She looked over at the man, noticing the way he had a pair of small metal objects on a chain around his neck, objects that reminded her of dog tags. He seemed to trace over them, as if in a nervous habit or as if trying to fathom some deeply hidden mystery.
"Can I buy you a drink, stranger?" She tried to keep her voice light, to hide her own pain, but a single glimpse of his eyes told her that she'd failed, that he knew of her own pain just as she knew of his.
He looked at her, as if trying to find any hidden motivation she might have, any hidden demand that she might try to place on him.
"A drink sounds good." His voice was a bit rough, as if he wasn't used to talking.
By the time several hours later, when it was almost New Year's, he glanced over at her. They'd exchanged some minor, nearly meaningless chatter, he was Logan and she was Willow, and neither of them were from around here. Traveling for personal reasons. "So, Willow... it's almost the new year, almost two thousand three. Got a resolution?"
"Hmm... yeah. And I've had enough of these that I might even have the courage to act on it." She was smiling at him, trying to flirt just a little, uncertain if he'd notice.
There was the sound of cheering as the year turned, and Willow smiled, her eyes surely sparkling with mischief. She reached over and grabbed Logan by his shirt, pulling him close enough that she could kiss him, her lips moving over his as if she had to memorize the taste and feel of his mouth.
"Happy New Year, Logan."
"Not that I'm complaining, but what kind of resolution is that?" He was staring, his eyes filled with a complex blend of emotions, including passion and desire.
She traced one finger over his cheekbone getting a half image of shining silver metal. "I wanted to reach out, to make contact with someone. To feel like I'm still real and alive and actually a person instead of a walking memory."
"If you want any help with that, I wouldn't mind offering a little reassurance for you." There was a definite suggestion in those words, an almost stated offer to take her to bed with him, to feel passion and pleasure and just... to feel.
Normally, she would just blush and retreat. But she was healing, and gaining in confidence. She had grown past the girl she had once been. "I think that sounds good. Your hotel or mine?"
end Reach Out.