Playing with Tinsel
A quick Willow/Tara Holiday ficlet for whedonland
Playing with Tinsel
It was all about the wrapping. Seamless folds, delicately curled ribbon, fitted with a small tag. Tara prided herself on presentation at Christmas; it had always been her mother’s pride and joy. When her mother died she had taken up all the Christmas responsibilities. Tara would spend hours properly dressing the tree, only allowing Donny to place a minimal number of ornaments, then quickly re-placing them as soon as be left the room. It was the one thing that she was allotted; since Donny and her father never had much of a passion for the holidays they let her fuss over the careful placements of the garlands and wreaths.
When Willow arrived home, the sun setting behind her as she shut the front door she was greeted with the smell of apple cinnamon tea. A smile tweaked her mouth as she spotted her wife balancing carefully on the stepladder trying to hang a particularly troublesome wreath. She hung back and watched as Tara centered and garnished the leaves, leaning back to admire her work.
Willow had at first argued about leaving all the holiday preparations to the blonde, feeling it wasn’t fair to burden her with all the work while Willow was at the office, but over the years she realized that to Tara it wasn’t work, it was play. The amusement that caught in her wife’s eyes had become more and more obvious every year, and now even when she was the most stressed and absentminded Willow could always tell when the holidays were coming up.
Playing with Tinsel
It was all about the wrapping. Seamless folds, delicately curled ribbon, fitted with a small tag. Tara prided herself on presentation at Christmas; it had always been her mother’s pride and joy. When her mother died she had taken up all the Christmas responsibilities. Tara would spend hours properly dressing the tree, only allowing Donny to place a minimal number of ornaments, then quickly re-placing them as soon as be left the room. It was the one thing that she was allotted; since Donny and her father never had much of a passion for the holidays they let her fuss over the careful placements of the garlands and wreaths.
When Willow arrived home, the sun setting behind her as she shut the front door she was greeted with the smell of apple cinnamon tea. A smile tweaked her mouth as she spotted her wife balancing carefully on the stepladder trying to hang a particularly troublesome wreath. She hung back and watched as Tara centered and garnished the leaves, leaning back to admire her work.
Willow had at first argued about leaving all the holiday preparations to the blonde, feeling it wasn’t fair to burden her with all the work while Willow was at the office, but over the years she realized that to Tara it wasn’t work, it was play. The amusement that caught in her wife’s eyes had become more and more obvious every year, and now even when she was the most stressed and absentminded Willow could always tell when the holidays were coming up.