Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A number of the so-called facts of life, Willow has decided, eventually transcend cultural barriers to become universal constants; not all are necessarily according to Murphy, just most of the better-known ones. She came to this conclusion long ago and far away, in the heady first days of college, and experience has proved as valid as experiment. Toast will always land butter down; Xander will never care if a vampire has a soul; Buffy will never allow herself to be truly happy.

For all that exceptions abound in an uncertain world, such absolutes have served her well going on a quarter century. The latest addition, however, is of particular interest.

"Ohmigod." Dawn's mouth has gone slack, half-eaten French fry dangling from limp fingers as she stares at a fidgety Willow. "You're kidding, right?"

At least to some people.

"'Fraid not." She manages a weak grin. "I know, I sound all pathetic, and --"

"No!" Dawn goes for a commanding glare, followed by a nod of certainty. "You're not pathetic. You just need to get laid."

"Dawn!" She'd been wondering if she could still do shocked. Apparently so.

"What?" Her companion seizes her opportunity and another handful of fries. "You know it's true."

The two of them are sitting on a raised wall around an anonymous fast-food parking lot, soaking up sunshine and avoiding crowds. It's nice to be trusted behind the wheel and enjoy some just-the-two-of-us time, after everything that's happened, but she should have remembered this was inevitable. Once Dawn's sufficiently comfortable, the first thing she wants to discuss is Willow's love life. Or lack thereof.

"It's not that simple."

Dawn levels a fry at her. "You always make it harder than it has to be. You said it yourself! It's been over a month since --" She lowers her voice as a family walks by, kids trailing balloons.

"A whole month since we shut down the Hellmouth -- and now you tell me, not even before? You haven't had one night?" A shake of the head. "Insane troll logic."

Willow's mouth curls. "Nice to see you've moved past the pronouncing judgment phase."

"You are so lame." Dawn polishes off the last of the greased potato product, grabbing a napkin. "If I were you guys, I could totally have found time to get it on by now."

Willow sits up straighter. "Okay, first -- I wanted some of those. And, you do know Buffy goes spaz if she hears you say things like 'get it on'?"

"Here we go again." The melodramatic sigh has become Dawn's signature move. "I'm only a short stack of paperwork from emancipation."

Her heart softens at this disgruntlement; obviously the intended effect. "Tara and I talked about adopting you." Dawn looks suspicious, but Willow sounds stress-free as she gazes across the parking lot at nothing in particular.

"After Buffy died -- well, died the second time. And after Tara moved out, we were having one of those awkward coffee conversations? And I said she should adopt you, to keep away bad influences like me and your sister."

Dawn's lips curve in a reluctant smile as Willow continues. "And...it did come up one other time." A brief, secretive smile of her own. "I think you might remember that morning?"

"What -- ooh." Dawn grins in recollection, but the humor abruptly vanishes. "Did I ever tell you how much that sucked?"

Willow turns to her, voice gentle with understanding. "Which part?"

"All of it." Dawn's obviously trying not to look away; she may have picked up words like piffle from Giles, but the stiff upper lip is a work in progress. "You broke up, you danced around each other for months -- then you finally get back together, and all you get is one night --" She breaks off and lowers her gaze. "It's not fair."

Willow doesn't hesitate, scooching over and pulling her into an awkward but enthusiastic hug. "I know, honey. But at least we had that."

Her charge scooches right back, leaning on her shoulder. God and Goddess, she's missed this so much; it's what made her reach out again to begin with, the desire for simple human contact and nothing more. Except it's starting to become more, and if she's not careful she'll be thinking daddy thoughts. Maybe Dawn has a point.

The teen's voice is slightly muffled against her shirt. "So when do you have it with Faith?"

"I don't know." She decides not to mention the night before the big battle; the outrage can only grow if it comes out she had smoochies offered on a platter and turned them down. "I-I hope soon. Really, I do. But there just hasn't been a good time, and...we're not pushing it."

"Well, maybe you should." Dawn disengages and sits up, giving her the More Mature Than Thou look. "I'm not saying another apocalypse is around the corner, but you need to get with the program before she changes the channel. Or turns off the set?"

"Now who's the overly metaphorical pessimist?" Willow offers her best smile of reassurance. "Relax, Dawnie. I'm not getting dumped just 'cause I don't give it up. One of the big, lifestyle advantage things?"

Dawn's eyes do the twist. "Right. Because lesbians never get horny."

"And I'm thinking you're the one making this harder." She grabs their trash and slides down from the wall, before Dawn can see her blush worsen. "Come on. Let's get back before you sell me into slavery."

Dawn puffs her cheeks out in a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But I'd better see some action soon." Cheeks turn flamey as Willow glances back. "I mean -- hearing is fine. Hearing -- about it. After."

Willow pulls the keys from her pocket and hits Unlock, once more thanking the (non-evil, non-insane) gods that her last rental was under a false name. Like most of her clothes, pretty much everything apart from her laptop and a few magical items, that vehicle is likely at the bottom of the pit that was Sunnydale. Giles thinks the sinkhole may fill, as the nearby sea rushes in to claim it.

She climbs in and lowers the visor, finding her sunglasses. Years of night shifting have made for sensitive eyes.

"So when are you getting your own boy or girl friend? You know, so I can harass you for a change?"

"Piffle." For once, Dawn's blase' comes off genuine. "I've seen too much wacky in the name of love. I'll keep my smoochies vicarious."