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Disclaimers: I don't own ANYTHING. Willow, Tara, Buffy, Giles, ad nauseam, belong to the wonderful folk at the WB, especially Joss Whedon. Lucky buggers. And the opening dialogue is lifted straight from the show. References to cartoons means the characters and other stuff belong solely to the owners of the aforementioned cartoons.

This little piece depicts a romantic relationship between two persons of the same gender. I wish I didn't have to disclaim that.

Summary/Spoilers/Notes: Based off "Who Are You?" and is a continuation of the conversation in Tara's dorm room, sorta. But in a nice PG-13ish kinda way. Also, it's told in the first person.

Feedback, praise, trashing, direct towards Ressick Be nice; I suck at taking criticism if it's not kindly worded.

Yours

by Ressick

"I am, you know."

"What?"

"Yours."

Her eyes were soft, looking at me then, and her lips smiled slightly at my words. But still. It was frightening, sitting in my room with this simple fear threatening to tear me apart. It was easy to think, I love her, easy to say to myself in the mirror, but even alluding to it in conversation scared me. Everything was so new to us, each kiss, each touch, fresh and surprising and filled with wonder.

I'd never been to the Bronze, didn't know what to expect from the place, and never expected to run into "Buffy" there. Even though I could sense it wasn't really the girl Willow considered her best friend, it was still disconcerting to be evaluated by someone who could so obviously tell what our relationship was. That it was a relationship. That Willow held my hand not to make sure I wasn't about to inadvertently wander off but because she wanted to, wanted the feel of my hand in hers. We were still discovering each other, and didn't need interference.

The real Buffy was much easier to deal with- she was a bit less with it than Faith, or chose to deny what her senses told her. At least, she kept quiet with me around. And I finally met the Scooby gang. Willow finally invited me fully into her world, acting for all to see as if I belonged among her friends.

Later that night, the two of us alone in my room, she shyly said, "How, um, how do you like them?"

"They're great. I can see why you like them so much, Willow."

She sat down next to me, taking my hand in hers, "Do you think they'll mind?"

I smiled nervously, and looked down at our joined hands. "I don't know. They're your friends."

"But I want them to be yours too!" She pulled away, glancing at the ring on her finger that was from Buffy. "It'll be okay. As soon as they get to know you..." Impulsively, she took the ring off and slipped it onto my finger.

"Willow, no," I said softly, "I can't accept this."

"Please, for me," she asked, eyes pleading. What could I do? She asked me, gave me something that in her mind bound me to her friends. So I put the ring back on, and gently kissed her.

Each kiss, each touch, each glimpse was so new and wonderful, that it was easy to lose myself in her. In the incredible silky texture of her hair and how the semi-darkness of my room brought out the fiery red highlights. In the deep green of her eyes, the sparkling intelligence, humor, sensitivity captured by verdant irises. In how a feminine softness overlaid her wiry, agile build. In the extremely tender, hesitant nature of how she touched me. Most especially in her kisses, sweet and affectionate and passionate all at once.

I moved away breathless from her lips, placing feather-soft kisses on her eyelids and cheeks and nose and neck. I couldn't help myself- shy sensible Tara disappeared in the midst of this gentle passion. Willow slid her arms around me, and for a brief eternity, we held each other, drinking in the tangible intimacy of the moment, our bodies pressed close together, hearts beating against the other's breast, breaths intermingling in the scant inches between us. And reveling in the poignant electricity flowing from one to the other, stirring something very deep in our souls. As if we'd finally come home in each other's arms.

She buried her face in my neck, and after a while I felt the hot wetness of tears on my skin. She sniffled and apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I replied, "what's wrong?" We pulled apart again, Willow drying her eyes roughly and turning away from me. I took her hands away from her face, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Please, don't push me away," I begged, my guard slipping and some of my fear showing when it shouldn't have. She turned away fully, eyes wet, her thin shoulders slumped. I couldn't bear to see her hurting- for whatever reason- so I scooted over a bit and practically dragged her into my lap, arms firm around her waist, and face buried in her hair, whispering into her ear as she cried herself out.

It wasn't a time to talk, it was a time for comfort and closeness, so when she finally fell asleep in my arms, leaning back against me, I just rearranged myself until we were lying down on the bed, her head pillowed on my shoulder, a blanket thrown haphazardly over us, and I let myself fall asleep. Whatever was troubling her, we'd talk in the morning.

I woke up to a light and gentle snoring at my shoulder. During the night Willow had commandeered me as a human pillow, and she was half-draped over my body, one arm cinched tight around my waist. Something disturbed her and she frowned slightly for a second, then snuggled closer. I think I stopped breathing. I'm not sure; so much was whirling around in my head that it is totally possible I had a little oxygen deprivation thrown in there somewhere. In the middle of the whirl was a simple fact: I loved the young woman clinging to me in sleep. Orbiting around at high rates of speed were other facts: I was scared, I'd never been in a relationship before, she was as of late a member of the heterosexual family, and on a weekly basis some demon tried to kill her or she got involved in killing the previoulsy mentioned random demon. But her scent clung to my nostrils: fresh and sweet and clean like her, and her warmth penetrated to my very bones until I thought I would never be cold again, just carrying the memory of her lying against me would be enough. Then I stopped and had to smile at myself. I could hear Lady Cluck, from the cartoon version of 'Robin Hood', saying "Ah me, young love, oh tis a grand thing." And then I chuckled, because good old Walt probably never meant for it to apply to two college girls.

The chuckle vibrated in my chest and roused Willow. She stretched without moving much, then started as she realized she didn't recognize where she was or who she was with. Glancing up at me, she looked puzzled for a second before breaking into a radiant smile. Kissing my cheek, she hugged me. "I'm sorry, again," she said softly. "I never meant to use you for a pillow, or... anything." She looked like she was about to break into Willow-babble, something she was usually able to avoid around me, but then just shook her head. "Thanks," she said simply.

"No problem," I replied, hugging her back. "You okay?" I asked gently, caressing her face.

She took my hand and brushed her lips against my palm. "I think so, now. Thanks to you," she smiled.

"What was wrong?"

Willow stiffened against me, and a fleeting spark of worry shone in her eyes. She mumbled something into my shoulder, then looked up. "I'm not good enough for you."

It blindsided me. I wasn't good enough for her, not the other way around. She was smart and ingenious and brave and sweet and caring and beautiful and I was just shy old Tara, without any friends at all in college, unlike Willow who was well respected and friendly towards everyone.

"No, no, no" I disagreed. "You're too good for me. I don't understand why you'd even want to be around me!" I stopped for a second, thought, and then laughed, "My, aren't we classic cases of low self-esteem! How junior high can you get?!"

Willow giggled, then burst out in laughter. "You're right," she said when she'd calmed down. "I haven't been this insecure since I was a freshman in high school."

She looked at me, soft and intense all at once. Something clicked, and I said, "I love you."

Willow Rosenberg's eyes went wide for a second, then she smiled brilliantly, her eyes a fiery verdant in the early morning light. "I love you too, Tara."

In the same clothes I'd worn the day before, on a cramped standard-issue dorm bed, sleep still thick in my voice, with wild hair and morning breath, I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. Willow leaned close to me, and we kissed gently. I wasn't alone anymore. Some deity had smiled upon me, given me the love of the most amazing young woman I'd ever met, and I was free to love her in return. What more could a girl ask for?

The End