Round 46: a love letter (words unspoken remix) (Willow/Kennedy, PG13)
femslash_minis is hosting a mini remix round, and here's my entry. It seemed like a good time to write my first W/K...
Remix Title a love letter (words unspoken remix)
Remix Author Brutti ma buoni
Original of the remix: snowpuppies, a love letter (never written)
Pairing Willow/Kennedy
Rating PG13
Words 530
Willow knew she was on the edge. Knew life was getting to her, beyond what was reasonable. There was always so much to be done. There were meetings. With agendas. And action points. There were forms and precedents, and when there were neither, things got still more complex.
Sometimes, Willow yearned for the days when Buffy would sit cross-legged on the desk in the library, with Giles tutting when her feet disturbed the books, and they'd kick around a couple of ideas about what vamp wackiness might come up before daylight. There could be doughnuts. There would be laughter. The absolute worst things that might happen were the death of one of the group, or of a civilian they'd failed (but they were used to those). Or, okay, the Apocalypse, which was never good…
Stop the nostalgia train. It had never been easy. It had just been different. It had felt more like being Willow, and less like being some international executive with the power of life and death over thousands. There had been more time to be Willow. Messed up Willow, often, but real Willow, which mattered. There had been time for the Bronze, to be the world's least-cool groupie for Oz. Time for spellcasting with Tara that had nothing to do with world-saveage. Now, personal time came with Blackberry interruptions, and Kennedy understood, but it was still…
Okay, her previous Blackberry had met a Slayerly end when it burred at just the wrong moment, when Kennedy's tongue and lips and hands were just at the perfect place, at the perfect time, and Willow was so close- After Slaying the Blackberry, Kennedy had gone right back to her task, but they'd lost that perfection of moment. It had been good. Nice. Just not… perfect. Symbolic, really, of where Willow had got to. So many important things were so good. Nothing was perfect.
Kennedy wanted more. Not now, not pushing, but more all the same. She dreamed aloud of cutting loose, paying due attention to the important things, just the two of them. Then a future, where Willow would want a forever and always commitment. So tempting. So needed. So far from where they were today. It would be so easy to ask for that promise of a future now and then not press for delivery; live on half-pledges and maybe-tomorrows. But the easy way was the false way, and Willow didn't do easy any more. Sometimes, late at night with perfection within their grasp, Willow could feel the bubble of Kennedy's hope, even perhaps expectation of what Willow would want from her. And the heavy, cold-lead weight of disappointment when the bubble burst, as bubbles do. Kennedy wanted to give things Willow couldn't stretch to asking.
Willow had walked this route before with another. Tara wasn't holding her back - Tara never would; selfishness wasn't even a tiny part of her. But the memory of having Tara, promising and failing, betraying Tara, losing Tara over and again… Yes, that was holding her back. And there was no time, no time to face her fears, build her future, love her girl. The world was on her shoulders, and Atlas didn't have vacation time for a reason.
When she had time to think, space to breathe, Willow knew she wanted to speak. She wanted take the plunge, make those damn commitments and ask for them in return.
But the time was never right, so the words couldn't come.
*
I am also piloting shiny new mood theme: season 4, by exp0se at fadedfl0wers. Is it not fabulous?
Remix Title a love letter (words unspoken remix)
Remix Author Brutti ma buoni
Original of the remix: snowpuppies, a love letter (never written)
Pairing Willow/Kennedy
Rating PG13
Words 530
Willow knew she was on the edge. Knew life was getting to her, beyond what was reasonable. There was always so much to be done. There were meetings. With agendas. And action points. There were forms and precedents, and when there were neither, things got still more complex.
Sometimes, Willow yearned for the days when Buffy would sit cross-legged on the desk in the library, with Giles tutting when her feet disturbed the books, and they'd kick around a couple of ideas about what vamp wackiness might come up before daylight. There could be doughnuts. There would be laughter. The absolute worst things that might happen were the death of one of the group, or of a civilian they'd failed (but they were used to those). Or, okay, the Apocalypse, which was never good…
Stop the nostalgia train. It had never been easy. It had just been different. It had felt more like being Willow, and less like being some international executive with the power of life and death over thousands. There had been more time to be Willow. Messed up Willow, often, but real Willow, which mattered. There had been time for the Bronze, to be the world's least-cool groupie for Oz. Time for spellcasting with Tara that had nothing to do with world-saveage. Now, personal time came with Blackberry interruptions, and Kennedy understood, but it was still…
Okay, her previous Blackberry had met a Slayerly end when it burred at just the wrong moment, when Kennedy's tongue and lips and hands were just at the perfect place, at the perfect time, and Willow was so close- After Slaying the Blackberry, Kennedy had gone right back to her task, but they'd lost that perfection of moment. It had been good. Nice. Just not… perfect. Symbolic, really, of where Willow had got to. So many important things were so good. Nothing was perfect.
Kennedy wanted more. Not now, not pushing, but more all the same. She dreamed aloud of cutting loose, paying due attention to the important things, just the two of them. Then a future, where Willow would want a forever and always commitment. So tempting. So needed. So far from where they were today. It would be so easy to ask for that promise of a future now and then not press for delivery; live on half-pledges and maybe-tomorrows. But the easy way was the false way, and Willow didn't do easy any more. Sometimes, late at night with perfection within their grasp, Willow could feel the bubble of Kennedy's hope, even perhaps expectation of what Willow would want from her. And the heavy, cold-lead weight of disappointment when the bubble burst, as bubbles do. Kennedy wanted to give things Willow couldn't stretch to asking.
Willow had walked this route before with another. Tara wasn't holding her back - Tara never would; selfishness wasn't even a tiny part of her. But the memory of having Tara, promising and failing, betraying Tara, losing Tara over and again… Yes, that was holding her back. And there was no time, no time to face her fears, build her future, love her girl. The world was on her shoulders, and Atlas didn't have vacation time for a reason.
When she had time to think, space to breathe, Willow knew she wanted to speak. She wanted take the plunge, make those damn commitments and ask for them in return.
But the time was never right, so the words couldn't come.
*
I am also piloting shiny new mood theme: season 4, by exp0se at fadedfl0wers. Is it not fabulous?