Lies We Tell Ourselves (The Definition Of Irony Remix)
Forget every time I moaned...
Willow woke up to an empty bed. Sounds from the kitchen could have been the reason she woke up, but she highly doubted it. The clock told her she only had five hours sleep, but her eyes were gummy as if she's been asleep for ages. Her skin was all rashy and she cursed under her breath once as the blanket pulled across her legs. Not a good morning.
"Willow! Get your ass down here, we've got pancakes and waffles and even Cheerios!"
Still cursing she stumbled into her slippers and made her way downstairs. Sitting cross-legged on the chair was Buffy, picking at her plate and pretending to read the newspaper.
"Good morning," Willow barely managed to get out before she turned towards the fridge, pretending to ignore Buffy's whispered response.
"Good morning."
Forget every time I whispered your name...
The stumble at the door marked Buffy's return home, her hands all bloody from stake splinters, but a big wide grin because she got 'em, got each and every last one and before Willow could bandage them Buffy had her in a lip lock so tight that her lips would be swollen hours later. When they tried to get to the bedroom so Dawn wouldn't discover their little tte--tte they barely made it to the hall closet where an umbrella dug into her back in the most erotic way.
Buffy was knuckle deep into her and Willow's eyes were doing that rolly thing and her mouth was all open and hanging. Buffy had slipped a hand against her mouth to keep her quiet as she came, because Dawn was two doors down, bopping to Timberlake and pretending to do homework. Willow was breathing hard against her hand, whispering words as she came and Buffy felt her tongue pop against palm: "Tara."
Willow probably didn't even notice because she laughed when she found her footing again, laughed all sated and happy. Buffy smiled thinly as they tip toed back to the room, smiled thinly as Willow snuggled into her arm, "Buffy?" She whispers sleepily.
"Yes?"
"Are we-"
"We're fine." She says and pretends that it's true.
Forget every time I clasped your hand...
Simple little things began to build up: in the grocery store, at the Starbuck's on Main. Buffy got the caramel machiatto and she was a bit too eager to get to the caffeine. She got caramel and cream all over her nose and neither of them thought much of it when Willow leaned in and licked it off. Carrie the Barrista raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything until her coffee break where she called half her graduating class and told them all about their class protector.
It was when Willow did the whole lame yawn-stretch-arm thing as they walked back home and knocked Buffy's drink to the ground. It wasn't so funny anymore and Buffy wondered if she was just being shallow or that her stained pants was indicative of something else. Willow apologized profusely, and tried to wipe it off but Buffy felt her cheeks burn as she pushed the girl away and ran to the bathroom. She didn't get home until two in the morning, her pants now coffee and blood stained and all her good stakes long gone. Willow had tried to stay up but she had fallen asleep on the couch and Buffy didn't have the guts to wake her.
Creeping up the stairs made Buffy feel like an errant husband and she almost cried falling asleep.
Forget every time I ran my fingers through your hair...
"I'm not Tara," the first words over breakfast and Willow almost shatters the mug in her hand.
"What?"
"I'm not Tara," Buffy repeats it as if she's trying to convince herself, "I'm not her, I'll never be-"
Willow turns away, setting the cup firmly down on the table before breathing again- this was not how her morning was supposed to be. It was supposed to be all about the pancakes and whip cream and the fact that Dawn had left for school early and the house was completely empty. They wouldn't have needed closets and hushed voices this morning; it wasn't supposed to be like this, "I know that," she says and pretends to wash her cup in the sink. Filled a mere two seconds ago hot coffee spilled all over her hand but she didn't stop.
"I'm not her," Buffy tries again, voice softer but Willow isn't fooled.
"I know that, it was just a slip of the tongue s'all."
There's a knock on the window from Xander and neither of them talk until later that night when Buffy pulls Willow into the bathroom and tries to apologize with her lips and hands tangling into her hair.
Forget everything you thought...
"Stop crying, please stop crying." Buffy has her arms crossed and she's leaning against the doorway; Willow is on the bed and her shoulders are heaving. Neither of them makes a move towards each other and the gaping presence between them is almost painful.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Willow manages to get out between dry sobs, "You said we were fine! You said-"
"I know what I said-"
That doesn't shut Willow up, and she's pushing off of the bed and getting into Buffy's face, "What about Faith? Huh? What made her so special?"
"It was different. I was different."
"Different how? Bigger tits?" Willow laughs and Buffy is struck by how much they've changed.
"I'm not good enough for you."
This stops Willow who was about to go into more graphic detail; she stumbles back against the bed and Buffy sits beside her, fingers clasped between her knees, "I can't do this anymore-"
"What?"
"This," She motions between them, "This just isn't good, not for us, not for you." She falls against the bed, spreads her hands under her head.
Willow doesn't know what to say because this wasn't what she was expecting. She wanted Buffy to be angry with her because at least that's something she knew how to handle. But this? Buffy was talking to her like they were best friends again, and not girls who fucked in closets and bathrooms and some times said "I love you." Willow remembers back in college when Buffy would confide in her about all of the boys and relationship problems and Willow would 'ooh' and 'aah' because Buffy was so lucky to have so many people to care about her, while Willow had...no one. Then she had found Tara and suddenly she had someone who worried and wondered about her and everything was good.
Then Tara died and Buffy did Spike and nothing was at it shouldve been.
"Willow?" Buffy looks at her and Willow realizes she had faded out, "Talk to me, tell me what you're thinking."
Willow stares at her. What was she thinking about? Nothing?
Nothing.
"Nothing," She smiles wanly, "I have to go." She pushes up off the bed and smoothes down her skirt, "I have to... go." Stumbling against the carpet she just barely gets out of the room before she begins to cry again.
She hates herself sometimes; she's such a girl.
I'm not Tara.
They don't talk at all over breakfast and Dawn pretends that her sister and Willow aren't broken up. Not that they were ever officially together but Dawn heard from Cheri who heard from Tom who heard from Carrie who saw the whole thing that Buffy and Willow were doing it. That and she heard them all the time because Buffy is totally a screamer and that would be skeevy if Buffy's love life hadn't already been such old news.
Dawn pretends that she has a study group in the morning and gets out of that room as quickly as possible. She hopes that they won't break any of the furniture, because insurance was totally not going to pay for another couch. Dawn pretends that she'll see Willow in the morning and everything's going to be ok; it has to be. The door slams shut as Dawn leaves and neither Willow nor Buffy look up from their plate. Xander doesn't knock on the window this time and they are left to each other.
"Willow-" Buffy begins but Willow pushes up from the table and leaves.
Suddenly her pancakes don't seem so good and her heels are clashing with her skirt.
Buffy gets up from the table without bothering to clear the dishes.
I'm not being selfish.
That night it's Buffy again because she can't seem to let go and Willow is so easy at two in the morning and drunk off of Gile's stash of gin. It was bitter and burned down her throat like in all those detective books. But Buffy wasn't a dame and Willow didn't have any good hats. Neither of them smoked after sex and that was probably a good thing because Willow could see herself addicted in two seconds flat.
"I'm sorry." Buffy tries to say against her stomach; tries to say as she disentangles herself from Willow's legs, "God, I am so sorry." She's tumbling off of the bed and backing away, picking her skirt up off the floor, "I was using you, god, I was just..."
Willow doesn't bother with words this time around because she knows they are useless. Instead she tries to hold back tears because she doesn't want to come off weak and stupid. She's strong, like an Amazon.
Strong.
It doesn't help; Willow is tired of people leaving and Buffy's got a pained expression on her face, mouth all drawn and tight.
Buffy's already at the door and it's too late for Willow to be the proactive one, "Tell Giles," Buffy's voice hitches before the door closes, "Tell him I'll see you guys tomorrow."
The door shuts and Willow tries to take in a breath. It doesn't work and her shoulders shiver once, twice, before she finally collapses against the mattress, suddenly sapped of energy and emotion. She should be crying now, but she doesn't bother because she's tired and she's got time for that stuff later.
"Oh my god, that was amazing!" Buffy's all done squirming and she's got her hands in Willow's hair, pulling her back up, "Jesus where did you learn that?"
Willow smiles brightly, bringing her lips back down against Buffy's, "College taught me real good."
"I'll say." Red hair gets into Buffy's mouth as she kisses up the side of Willow's neck, "Care to teach me exactly what?"
Buffy was a quick learner, deft and sweet, Willow really couldn't have asked for more. Afterwards, they wouldn't really talk but ramble until one of them would fall asleep first. Sometimes Willow would wake up, pulling Buffy closer and letting her hand spread against the girl's stomach, making sure she was there, making sure that this was real.
Sometimes Buffy would whisper under her breath, and Willow would pretend it was about her.