(no subject)
3. (willow/jenny calendar)
When she wasn’t in the library with Giles and the others, Willow could usually be found in Ms. Calendar’s classroom, going over spreadsheets and technical computer terms or just talking. She loved chatting with Ms. Calendar-Jenny, she said to call her-loved how Jenny treated her less like a student and more like an equal, a friend. It was nice to talk with someone who wasn’t talking down to her. Giles didn’t talk down to her, but he was more preoccupied with actually fighting evil or wooing Jenny than with sitting down and chatting.
But even nicer was the one day that their lips met accidentally, almost in a cliché romance movie way. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be kissing a woman-she hadn’t even kissed a boy yet-but it felt alright and Jenny was all apologetic afterwards and it made her feel bad, so she pressed her lips again to Jenny’s shyly, blushing all the while.
“So,” Jenny said with a small smile. “Am I forgiven?”
“Why would I need to?
They shared a smile and one more, gentle kiss. It was never spoken of again.
4. (willow/buffy)
“Buffy, I just…this isn’t me,” Willow whined, her voice wavering the same way it had done on Halloween. But she had to admit that, okay, yes, while Experiment: Punk Willow hadn’t gone very well, she’d still looked hot.
“Will, it’s fine. It’s totally you!” Buffy reassured her friend. Willow gave her that look and Buffy felt that sweaty shiver roll down her spine; that feeling she only got around Angel. “Oh, come on, look at yourself. It’s the hottie in you come out to play.” She pushed Willow to the mirror and played with her long red hair. She was wearing one of Buffy’s low cut, high slit dresses, black in a way that set off her hair, and Buffy whistled at her friend’s reflection.
“It’s…it doesn’t look right. On me, I mean.” She turned around, facing Buffy, her arms crossed protectively over herself. “On you, it’s great. It just…I don’t do-” she gestured to the areas of open, creamy skin “skin.”
Buffy smiled gently, putting her hands on either side of Willow’s face. “Will, you look hot.” She nodded to emphasize her point and rested her forehead on Willow’s.
“Thanks,” Willow said softly, closing her eyes. Before Buffy could say anything, Willow leaned in, touching her lips gently to Buffy’s. Surprisingly, Buffy went along with it, responding fully. They broke apart and stayed there, just silent, which in itself was something special.
“You’re welcome.”
5. (willow/ amy)
“So, Amy,” Willow said as she walked up to the other girl in the hallway.
“Hi, Willow, what’s up?”
“Well, I was just wondering-we’re still doing the,” she looked around, making sure no one-particularly Buffy-was listening in, “the protection spell tonight, right?”
“Of course,” Amy said, smiling at Willow. “Tonight’s the final night. It’s important.”
“Yeah, I was just hoping you hadn’t forgotten. Looks like you haven’t. That’s good.”
Amy laughed a little, giving Willow an odd look. “I remember.” She looked at the science room and then looked at Willow with that odd little half-smile. “Hey, I’ve gotta get some of the ingredients for tonight. Come help?”
“Uh, sure.” Willow said, confused, but nodding anyways. What did Amy need her help carrying herbs? Oh, probably to divide the burden, just to make sure Buffy didn’t catch wind of it. Something like that. She followed the other witch into the room, looking around for the supplies.
As soon as the door was closed, Willow was rammed against the chalkboard, her backpack dropping off her shoulder, lips anything but chaste lapping at her own, hands wandering in new places. Amy held her firmly against the blackboard, not with her mind, her power, but with her physical presence. And Willow, for all her protestations, allowed it to happen. Boys were nicer. But girls were nice, too.
6. (willow/giles)
“Hi, um, can I come in?” Willow stood in front of Giles’ apartment, shifting from foot to foot. Giles, partially drunk already, peered at her in the heavy night dark.
“Oh. Um. Of course, Willow.” As she stepped in the room, he coughed, asking awkwardly, “How-how are you?”
She looked at him strangely. She was calmer than he had seen her last, casting an impetuous spell to have her will done. “I’m-I’m better. I guess.” She sighed and turned her eyes away from him, looking down at the pages and pages he had strewn across his desk. “It’s hard, you know? It’s really hard and I’m not sure I-can handle it.”
He stepped towards her, putting his hand on her shoulder; she brought her hand up to it, resting her fingers lightly on his, rubbing his signet ring unconsciously.
“It will always be hard, no matter how many times you-you lose someone.” His hand moved to her cheek. “I just wish he hadn’t hurt you in such a manner.”
“What would you have done in his place?” she asked timidly. Her eyes finally returned to his and he saw pain, a pain he himself had felt long ago; and not so long ago, as well.
“I would’ve saved you-the woman I loved-from the heartache that would inevitably ensue if I had stayed.” He spoke softly, slowly, trying to sooth her even though he was agreeing with the man that had hurt her. He watched it happen, watched her bring her face closer to his, watched as her eyes flicked between his and his lips; he felt her breath warm his lips and nose; and still he was surprised-shocked-flummoxed, even-as her mouth touched his.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips, the vibration tickling his skin.