Author: RavenWolf
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set S4. Willow tries to figure things out.
In her dreams, Tara reminds her of a fertility statue. All lush curves and rounded, soft limbs. Her hair falls sexily in a curtain across her face and it's completely natural and innocent. Willow doesn't understand what the sin of adultery is anymore; Tara's the most beautiful thing in the world, and making love to her is like a religious experience, even in dreams.
Tara is surrounded by a white light of peace and knowledge. She swims in the river of the goddess, drinks from the waters and floats to the surface, staring at the moon and singing songs. Willow's either jealous or smitten, and maybe both. She wants to be like Tara, living inside a world where the lines connect and flow through everything and she can see and understand the things she practices. Willow's better at magick, but Tara's better at believing.
Willow's face grows hot and she ducks her head under the covers. Buffy isn't home yet, and she's lonely. Furtively, she stares up at the stars above her bed, but she still sees nothing but cold points of scientific light. She wonders what Tara must see.
What it would be like to be inside Tara. Rocking her close at night, touching those curves and roaming the skin with her hands. She's reluctant to admit to lesbianism, because she doesn't know how much this is about sex. She just wants to touch. Curiosity and despair and faithlessness have culminated in this need to believe in something. And Tara's easy to believe in.
She doesn't believe in a Christian god. All that testosterone makes her feel left out. How could a male god adhere to the needs of a woman when the cycle he gave her flared up every month? He couldn't.
Tara would make her tea and rub her tummy, she thinks. Tara would rock her back and forth and tell her stories, and she'd forget about the mess and the pain and think about the millions of years that women have been going through this. The little tiny seed moving inside her, ready to grow with the addition of blood.
Of course, Willow doesn't ever want to become pregnant. But Tara would make a good mom. Years from now, after they buy their first house and their first car and their first pet, not necessarily in that order, Willow can see Tara, just beginning to show and smiling for a picture that Xander will take.
Her parents, when they still cared, taught her that God was against homosexuality. Then why did he make it? she would ask. Her mother would smile and pat her head, and tell her that someday she'd understand what a filthy and disgusting perversion it was. Then she wouldn't ask such silly questions.
Willow still felt like she was asking all the silly questions. To her, Tara didn't seem filthy. Her lips seemed like they would be soft and her skin clean. Her eyes were bright. Tara's the most holy thing Willow's ever seen, and she knows for a fact that Tara is gay.
Willow imagines a generic lesbian relationship. No hard angles or tempers to get in the way. No wolf-teeth or angry points. Just lots of love and quiet touches in the night that made them more than friends but less than a married couple.
Willow examines this idea. It's appealing. All her life, men have been hard. They've ignored her, they've mistreated her, they've made fun of her. She doesn't think she likes them very much, and not just in the kindergarten-cootie way.
Tara, she likes. A simple idea. Willow knows how to deal with girls. Tomorrow she'll bake cookies and bring them over to Tara's room.
Maybe then, Tara will answer all those silly questions she's been asking her whole life.
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