FIC: Joy Is the Voice (1/1)

["srasher19 <srasher19@xxxxxxxxx>" <srasher19@xxxxxxxxx>]

Apparently, y'all *really* want me to post this here. So here you 
go.

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Title: Joy Is the Voice
Author: Mosca
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Buffy/Willow
Rating: NC-17 for f/f sex and mature themes
Spoilers/Continuity: Through "Grave," which is the last episode I'd 
seen when I wrote this.
Summary: Willow recovers at home.
Feedback: Dude. E-mail me privately at mosca6@xxxxxxxxxxxx to make 
sure I get it.
Distribution: Yes to list archives. Anyone else, please ask so I 
can say yes.
Disclaimers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the intellectual property 
of Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Fox Television, and a partridge 
in a pear tree. This original work of fan fiction is Copyright 2002 
Mosca and trust me, no profit is being made. Therefore, this story 
is protected in the USA by the fair use provisions of the Copyright 
Act of 1976. All rights reserved. All wrongs reversed. Help 
control the pet population: get your pet spayed or neutered.
Notes: Thanks to k and Katisha, the awesome beta women, and to The 
Distraction. The title is from an e.e. cummings poem. 

****

Willow has barely gotten out of bed since she tried to destroy the 
world. She doesn't say anything, and maybe she can't, but long 
friendships are like telepathy. Buffy doesn't need Willow to tell 
her why the covers are the only safe place left. A little bit of it-
- okay, maybe a lot bit-- is depression over Tara and over the 
severity of what she's done, but it's mostly the DTs. All that 
bilious black magic gurning around in her system. "Bilious." 
That's a Giles word. 

Giles is staying in Sunnydale for at least the rest of the summer, 
maybe longer. Buffy doesn't dare to hope that it might be forever. 
Having Giles around makes Buffy want to be childlike again, to curl 
up safe in his sense of responsibility for her. He is staying in 
her house, sleeping on the hide-a-bed in the living room. It is 
weird having him so close after so many years of his being the non-
custodial parent. The house stays very clean, though, and all the 
bills get paid on time.

Buffy doesn't have work today. If you can call dunking fries in 
grease and adjusting Doublemeat burgers under the heat lamp "work." 
She's declared today a pajama day and has dressed for the occasion. 
It's almost 10:00 when she wakes up. Taped to the bathroom mirror, 
there's a note saying that Giles has taken Dawn to the grocery 
store. While Buffy brushes her teeth, it occurs to her that she 
should check on Willow.

Willow is awake, looking at a computer magazine but not really 
reading it. Buffy is trying to get Willow interested in the things 
that made her happy before she got into witchcraft. That's been 
kind of hard, considering that most days Willow's not even 
interested in things like food or bathing. She just stares at the 
ceiling, seeing and hearing things that are only there for her. 
Buffy suspects that in Willow's head, good is battling evil over and 
over. But Willow isn't telling.

"Good morning," Buffy says, trying to sound cheery. Willow doesn't 
answer. "How're you feeling, Will?" Buffy says.

"I think I'm gonna barf," Willow says.

"Is that a 'get me a bucket, I think I'm gonna barf' or a 'Help me 
to the bathroom, I think I'm gonna barf'?"

"Bathroom."

So Buffy half-carries Willow to the bathroom and pushes Willow's 
hair back form her face while she dry-heaves. Willow's skin is 
translucent gray, and the pale green veins show through. Buffy has 
never needed Slayer strength to lift her and carry her; now, it 
seems like she will float away if Buffy doesn't hold her down.

"Will, when's the last time you ate something?" Buffy asks when 
Willow is back in bed.

"Dunno. Yesterday. Or the day before yesterday. What day was the 
day before yesterday?"

"Monday," Buffy says. "I think it was Monday."

"Then it was then, then. Dawn made me tunafish, but it kinda... 
came back up. I-- um-- I had Gatorade yesterday. And a red 
popsicle."

"You've got to eat, Will."

"I don't want anything," Willow says. "It's so much work and then 
it just-- you know."

"You've got to have something. What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"No. What do you want to eat?"

A cruel black-magic smile takes over Willow's face. "You," she 
says. She brushes Buffy's breast with a limp hand.

"Stay with me here, Will. How 'bout some soup?"

"Too early for soup."

"We've got tomato and chicken noodle. Which one do you want?"

"No soup."

"How does tomato sound?"

Willow sighs with resignation. "Fine."

Buffy goes downstairs to the kitchen. If she were Willow, she 
wouldn't want any soup either. She mixes the soup the way her mom 
used to make it: half water, half skim milk. In heaven, Buffy saw 
her mother. The real heaven was nothing concrete or certain, but 
this was dream heaven. "I didn't think I'd see you here so soon," 
her mom said. "But I'm glad you got to come here." In this heaven, 
Buffy's mom has taken up watercolor painting. Everything she paints 
comes alive and becomes part of the landscape.

The soup is bubbling. Buffy pokes the skin that's forming on the 
surface until it dissolves back into the liquid. The soup looks 
like blood, but it smells like tomatoes. Buffy pours it into a bowl 
and puts the bowl on a breakfast-in-bed tray along with a spoon and 
a glass of green Gatorade.

Buffy sits down in a chair by the bed and watches Willow eat. 
Willow doesn't even ask if Buffy's staying to make sure she eats it 
all. She eats excruciatingly, with occasional woeful glances in 
Buffy's direction. Like Buffy will take pity on her and let her die 
of starvation. If Willow died today, who knows what dimension would 
lay claim to her?

"All done," Willow announces with a smile.

Buffy takes the tray from her and heads for the door.

"Wait. Buffy," Willow says. "Can you... sit with me for a while? 
I, um, being alone is kind of freaking me out."

"Oh, Will," Buffy says. She throws her arms around Willow and holds 
her tight. Since Buffy died, she has been wary of touching anyone. 
Anyone except Spike, whose presence in her bed she justified by 
reasoning that since he was a hundred and fifty years dead, he 
didn't count as a person. When Giles came back, it was like she was 
hugging a ghost. But Willow feels angular and real and precious. 
If Buffy let go of her right now, and the world ended one second 
later, they'd be apart when the world ended. Buffy doesn't want to 
be alone when the world ends.

Willow is kissing Buffy's neck like a lover. Not Willow, not 
really, but the dark version of Willow that takes over when she 
isn't working hard enough to fight it. It takes a minute for the 
significance of this to register in Buffy's mind. The most 
important thing is that Willow not lose control of herself. 

"Willow, stop it," Buffy tries to say, but she can't bring herself 
to mean it. They feel so good, those warm damp lips, real living 
human lips with a real live pulse. "Willow," Buffy whispers. "You 
don't... want this."

"Oh my God," Willow says. She pulls back from Buffy. She is 
holding Buffy's wrists in her upturned hands. "Oh my God, I-- I'm 
so sorry. That wasn't-- I don't know what came over-- that wasn't 
me."

"I know, Will," Buffy says. "I know." She wants to feel Willow's 
heart beat into her own chest. "But what if I wanted you to?"

"That would be wrong," Willow says. "Very wrong, with whipped cream 
and a cherry on top. Kind of nice, but... no. Wrong. I need 
strict moral guidance, and I need-- I need you to kiss me very hard 
right now. Or possibly lick me."

"No licking," Buffy says, and she kisses her best friend. Very 
hard. Right now.

Willow has her hands up Buffy's shirt. She pushes Buffy under her 
gently. She has soft roaming hands, and they are everywhere, on 
Buffy's breasts and hips, up the inside of Buffy's thighs. Buffy 
wonders if Willow has played this scene out in her head before. 
It's so easy to get wrapped up in Slayer business that Buffy is 
worried that she missed all the signals. When your sacred calling 
is seeking out vampires, after a while that's all you see. The 
humans are just the things left over when all the monsters are dead.

Willow places her hand on Buffy's pubic mound. Just puts it there, 
her cold little Willow hand. "Are you sure, no licking?" Willow 
says. "Or-- or not. If you don't want me to."

"I can never feel anything anymore," Buffy says. 

"Are you-- are you using me to try and feel something? Spike left 
town and now-- now I'm his replacement? Because if so, you can-- 
you can take a hike, mister."

Buffy sits up. "What do you want me to tell you? That I love you?"

"I don't know. It might work."

"All I know is, when I saw what happened to you-- what you did to 
yourself-- I was so afraid. I was more afraid than when Angel... I-
- I didn't know what I'd do if I lost you and--"

"Buffy," Willow says. "That's how I feel about you. All the time. 
That's-- that's-- that's why I brought you back, because I--"

Buffy brushes Willow's hair out of her eyes. "I'm not going 
anywhere," she says.

"Don't say that," Willow sniffles.

"Well, not until I find my pants."

"Threw 'em on the floor over there. But you're gonna have to fight 
me for 'em."

"I think I can take you," Buffy says.

"Dunno. I'm a pretty scary demon."

"Will," Buffy says, "I hate to break it to you, but you're even 
cuter when you're trying to be scary."

Willow sticks out a fat bottom lip. "Darn. There go my plans for 
world domination."

Buffy kisses Willow's lips. She was going for just the top one, but 
that turned out to be way too specific a goal. She presses her 
forehead into Willow's. "Lick me," she says.

"Where?"

"Everywhere," Buffy says. She spreads her arms out wide and flops 
backward so she's lying flat on the bed. "Everywhere."

Willow starts with the pinkie finger of Buffy's right hand and sucks 
on each finger in turn. It shouldn't be sexy-- shouldn't be 
anything except maybe a little gross-- but Willow's hot mouth and 
the smack of cool air after it make Buffy shiver. Willow traces the 
grooves in Buffy's palm with the tip of her tongue, in order: love 
line, health line, and with special reverence, life line. Willow 
follows the path of a vein up Buffy's inner arm and then over to 
Buffy's right breast. She strokes Buffy's nipple with long back-and-
forth passes of her tongue. Buffy puts her hands on Willow's butt, 
just trying to hold her, but Willow taps Buffy's nose with her 
finger and says sweetly, "Don't touch." Buffy closes her eyes and 
tries to sink deeper into the mattress. 

Willow paints a spiraling shape on Buffy's stomach with her tongue, 
then descends to lick Buffy's pelvic bones and hip joints. She 
teases Buffy's inner thighs until Buffy is wet and aching. Buffy 
can't help but say, "Willow. Now."

"Shh," Willow says, but she doesn't keep up the torture. Instead, 
she parts Buffy's labia with her fingers and digs inside with her 
tongue. She is licking and sucking at Buffy's clit. Buffy wants to 
pull Willow closer to her and hold herself steady, but she settles 
for squeezing bunches of the bedsheet in her fists. Willow strokes 
Buffy's clit like it's a form of worship. Buffy feels her orgasm 
rise in her belly, and she yells it out. It's not Willow's name or 
anything intelligible. It's the sound of her own voice and of her 
body on fire.

And when she opens her eyes, she's looking at Willow's gentle, world-
weary smile. She presses her hand into Willow's breastbone. "Now," 
she begins.

Willow shakes her head. "I'm really wiped," she says 
hoarsely. "Maybe-- maybe I should've waited till I was a little 
stronger."

"Yeah, so I could've psyched myself out of this?" Buffy says. "That 
would've been just swell for both of us."

"Would've been kind of... beautifully tragic. Like an old novel. 
Pining in secret, in the same house yet worlds apart, watching the 
years waste away..."

"Heaving bosoms?"

"Yeah," Willow says. "Lots of those." Her hands are shaking.

"Will, are you all right?"

"Uh... my stomach's kind of bothering me a little."

"Will, you've got the shakes."

Willow looks at her hands. "Feed me Gatorade?"

"Can I put my pants on first?"

"No. No pants."

Buffy jumps out of bed and finds her pajama bottoms. While she's 
pulling them on, Willow glances at the alarm clock. "Ooh, The Price 
Is Right is on," Willow says. "Wanna watch the Showcase Showdown?"

"Are you sure you're up for a trip to the living room?"

"I'm sure I'm up for getting out of *here*," Willow says. Buffy 
helps her out of bed. Even though she has to lean heavily on Buffy, 
Willow insists on walking. On their way to the living room, they 
pick up a blanket from the linen closet and a fresh glass of 
Gatorade from the kitchen. They settle into the couch, and Buffy 
wraps the blanket around both of them. She tangles her legs in 
Willow's. It feels nice, almost too nice, when Willow shifts and 
makes the fabric of Buffy's pajama bottoms rub against her clit. 
Buffy is not sure she wants to feel like this about her best 
friend. But maybe she is the safest and wisest person to feel these 
things for.

Willow's whole body is shaking. Buffy steadies the Gatorade glass 
while Willow sips from it. "Look," Willow says. "It's the game 
with the little yodeling man. Climb, little yodeling man!"

"But Will, if the little yodeling man gets to the top of the 
mountain, the contestant doesn't win that lovely new dining room 
set."

"Yeah, well, she gets to be on TV," Willow says. "And she already 
won that foosball table. I think the yodeling man needs more 
encouragement."

Buffy shrugs. "I guess any man who can yodel like that can't be all 
bad." She squeezes Willow close to her.

"Hey! Not so tight! I'm in a fragile state, still!"

Buffy kisses the top of Willow's head. Late-morning sunlight warms 
the back of her neck, and the couch feels fuzzy on the bare strip of 
skin between the bottom of her shirt and the waistband of her pajama 
pants. The woman on the TV has beaten the yodeler and won a new 
dining room set. Willow nestles against Buffy; her tremors have 
eased. The world is so tangible that it would be a shame to leave 
it. "Tangible": that's a Giles word.

When Giles gets home, Buffy knows that this scene will become 
immeasurably more complicated. It will no longer be her and Willow, 
curled up on the sofa, peaceful and perfect; it will become her and 
Willow who just made love. There will be questions and discussions, 
and there will be things she will never get back.

But Buffy is going to deal with these things later. Now, she is 
going to watch this cat food commercial, and she is going to let 
Willow's weight press against her breasts. This is change that she 
wants. This is where she wants to be when the apocalypse comes: 
holding Willow in their safe, warm house, alive.

****

Mosca
http://mosca.freeservers.com/fanfic/