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DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
SUMMARY: R. Sometimes it takes weeks to realise the truth, sometimes years.
But it always happens on nights like these.
WORDCOUNT: 1282
DEDICATION: for Cassie, because she wondered about high rated W/X.
NIGHTS LIKE THESE
by Leni
If someone had ever told her this night would come, Willow would have laughed.
Nights as this had only come in her most secret teenage dreams, the ones that made her use
an extra sweater and shield her eyes with her hair if he came too close. Nights as this
were what made her sigh in that horrible time between Oz and Tara, when she'd thought of
every 'what if' and 'if only' of their thirteen years together. If she hadn't waited too
long; if she had been bolder; if...
If she had known he closed his eyes as his hands went down her shirt and his cheek
leaned briefly on the side of her breast before dropping a kiss.
Their friendship had bloosomed into something sibling-like. They had silently agreed to
forget those lost kisses from the last year. They mutually hid everything under the
carpet, telling themselves that if romance hadn't come from those hidden meetings, then it
never was meant to be. Xander was Willow's best pal. Willow was Xander's best girl-buddy.
And the world made sense.
The world tilted on its axis when her tongue met his skin. It was as salty as her dim
memories always whispered, still tasted like earth and warm water. But there were five
years of difference in that patch of skin, a tiny scar that had been unseen by her. As he
threw his head back and moaned her name, Willow decided that she would know every new
secret he'd guarded from her.
Then came Tara and Anya. Willow had been surprised. "An ex demon, Xander?" she
had said, eyebrows high in her forehead, when he wondered what was wrong. Xander had been
surprised by her choice as well, what a statement! but refrained from commenting until
they were alone. "Are you sure, really sure, 'this is the Hellmouth and we don't make
jokes' sure?" "Cross my heart and hope to die," she had answered with a
smile.
His lips took residence on her left breast, making her arch into their touch. Sweet.
Slow. Reverent. Magic. Willow could have wept from the emotion, but she kept
silent, moving her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and tugging it lightly
from right to left; from left to right. She whispered his name and tried a smile when he
lifted his head. "I'm always here," he said, tracing her arm with a single
fingertip before moving up to kiss her again.
After a while Willow understood how much Anya loved Xander. She'd had tears in her eyes
after they announced their engagement, joyful tears. How could she not be happy for them?
Of course they deserved the best. The world was theirs. With her best friend heading
towards a steady future and herself wrapped in Tara's protective arms...
"Don't ever leave me." His eyes fixed on hers saying those words, almost as
if he wanted to tempt her into a positive answer.
Her arms threaded around his neck, bringing him closer until their lips touched again.
"Never," she whispered against his forehead, bringing her head to a side so he
could have easier access to her neck.
Never. An echoe that none remembered saying or hearing, but that stayed in the room as her
hands lowered down his back, fingers questing and hungry running up and down his spine.
Loss. Confusion. Heartbreak. It still twisted her heart just to think of those horrible
months. Years. Her sweet Tara had been lost to a stupid accident. Anya was lost in
her own doubts and then to death. Everything crumbled around them, every ground lost its
shape. Madness.
There were no words for what happened after. She had a best friend to take care of. A
shaky relationship with a girl who hadn't yet learned the depths of responsibility and
friendship. There had been no Sunnydale, no home, no place to tuck in the memories before
going to sleep. It felt like falling. Falling. Falling...
Falling. His fingers tracing her thighs patiently, blunt nails exploring the skin.
Upwards, always upwards. And she was falling. Her own hands took his shoulders as hostage,
her lips moving in a litany of words she would never remember saying. He was just smiling
above her, a smile she couldn't place in any Xander-memory. He leaned down again, his lips
grazing against the tender skin under her breast just as his fingers met their
destination.
She let herself go.
Afterwards he'd gone as far as he dared. A mission, he'd said and they had nodded in
agreement. She alone had heard his real agenda: To heal. She had hugged him goodbye that
night, pressing him hard against her body to remind herself that he was real. That he was
just a long distance phone call away.
His arms had been tight around her as well, and he had kissed her cheek before stepping
away. "I'll come back, worrywart," he'd snickered even though his eyes were
still mirthless, abandoned. Then he'd given her the greatest gift, laughing that
Xander-laugh if only for her benefit.
He gave a short laugh before flipping them over. The result was a tangle of limbs, her
arm trapped between him and the mattress, one leg escaping the sheets and the other
insinuating itself boldly between his. The only thing that still made sense was his hand
gripping hers, giving her a sense of right and left, up and down, Willow and Xander.
Willow and Xander.
She grinned at him in response, recovering her arm and making sure her fingers never
forgot the body under them. Her legs moved on their own accord, and his smile turned
wolfish when he felt one at each side. "Beautiful," he murmured when his hands
touched her waist, circling her and bringing her forward with a slight tug.
Brazil had been wonderful. Three months of much earned peace. But Kennedy grew antsy with
every day, fidgeting in and out of their apartment at odd times. She finally confessed
that she needed to go back to the 'real' fight, that as a Slayer she couldn't stay quiet.
Willow hadn't been able to understand that, didn't Kennedy know that they didn't look for
trouble? Did Buffy or the other Slayers throw themselves into unnecessary fights? Hadn't
she had enough with the slaughter that had been Sunnydale's last days.
But Kennedy had been unmovable. So had Willow. In tears she had flown back to the States,
crying even harder when her ride 'home' was who she'd thought lost to grief in Africa.
He'd been curious about her unexpected return, how could he not? He'd nursed her back into
some semblance of normalcy for months. Her best friend, her best pal, the one who knew of
her favourite sweets, movies and her secret stash of chocolate.
Six months later they'd been sitting on the sofa, cuddled in front of the TV. After one
confusing scene Willow had lifted her head to ask Xander for details. Xander had lowered
his for the same. Three seconds later he had kissed her. Beautiful, the exact beginning of
those nights she'd conjured years ago. If someone had ever told her this night would come,
Willow would have laughed. She had only one question before he kissed her again.
"Why?" she asked after it was over, her hand over his heart and she could
almost hear the jumping rappety-rap slowing down into normality.
Xander moved until he could face her, taking her chin between his fingers and dropping a
quick kiss on the tip of her nose. "Because we've been waiting too long."
So simple an answer, with so much implied behind those easy terms. Willow smiled. Just
like them.
The End
20/10/04
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