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Jan. 6th, 2004 11:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doyleCurse my brain. In my head this started out perfectly sensible Tara/Doyle Wishverse darkfic, not fluffy Tara/Harry.
Anyway, my second fic for 12 Days of Ficlets: Secrets
Title: Cursed
Author: Doyle
Pairing: Tara/Harry
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Harry is the former Mrs. Allan Francis Doyle. We met her in Bachelor Party. This is set before season 4 Buffy but there's a spoiler for Family. Sort of.
She'd never slept with a girl - or anybody, really - before, so she didn't have a lot to compare with, but as Harry handed her a huge mug of cocoa, a plate of cookies and a tentative smile, Tara had to wonder if this sleepover atmosphere was the normal post-coital thing.
Still, it was nice. She'd never been allowed sleepovers when she was a little girl, so this was fun. And it was good that even though they'd, they'd, they'd made love (wow, they had, hadn't they?) that they could be nice to each other.
She wouldn't let herself feel like a bad girl and a slut or any of the other things her father (not her daddy, not ever again) would call her for going home with a girl she'd only just met. Harry knew that Tara was only in the city a couple more days before she had to start college, and Tara knew that Harry was mostly a straight girl, but there'd been an instant attraction back there in the bookshop.
The cookies were cinnamon. They crumbled in her mouth, and Tara remembered where her mouth had been and blushed fiercely.
"You have the prettiest hair in the whole wide world," Harry said, shifting so she was behind her on the bed. Her fingers tickled the skin behind Tara's ear as she gently separated out three strands of hair and started braiding them.
Tara didn't have a covetous nature, whatever Father said, but she wished she had hair that curled like Harry's. Her own just hung there, half-time covering her face.
"Are you a witch?" she asked, reminding herself not to be shy. This girl, woman, girl, had seen her naked.
"I'm an ethnodemonologist."
She curbed her tongue against anxious questions about that being like a Satanist, because people assumed all kinds of things about witches, too. "You study demons?"
"Uh-huh." She finished up the braid and went to work on the other side. "My husband was half-demon. Oh, gosh, I mean he is, not was. He is half-demon, he's not dead, we're just divorced. He's my ex-husband."
"You must have married young," Tara said, practically on auto-pilot. Half-demon. A demon in the family. And as Harry talked about her marriage and why it had ended, and how her husband had seemed a perfectly normal human being until the birthday when he changed, she felt sinking fear clutching at her stomach.
Anyway, my second fic for 12 Days of Ficlets: Secrets
Title: Cursed
Author: Doyle
Pairing: Tara/Harry
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Harry is the former Mrs. Allan Francis Doyle. We met her in Bachelor Party. This is set before season 4 Buffy but there's a spoiler for Family. Sort of.
She'd never slept with a girl - or anybody, really - before, so she didn't have a lot to compare with, but as Harry handed her a huge mug of cocoa, a plate of cookies and a tentative smile, Tara had to wonder if this sleepover atmosphere was the normal post-coital thing.
Still, it was nice. She'd never been allowed sleepovers when she was a little girl, so this was fun. And it was good that even though they'd, they'd, they'd made love (wow, they had, hadn't they?) that they could be nice to each other.
She wouldn't let herself feel like a bad girl and a slut or any of the other things her father (not her daddy, not ever again) would call her for going home with a girl she'd only just met. Harry knew that Tara was only in the city a couple more days before she had to start college, and Tara knew that Harry was mostly a straight girl, but there'd been an instant attraction back there in the bookshop.
The cookies were cinnamon. They crumbled in her mouth, and Tara remembered where her mouth had been and blushed fiercely.
"You have the prettiest hair in the whole wide world," Harry said, shifting so she was behind her on the bed. Her fingers tickled the skin behind Tara's ear as she gently separated out three strands of hair and started braiding them.
Tara didn't have a covetous nature, whatever Father said, but she wished she had hair that curled like Harry's. Her own just hung there, half-time covering her face.
"Are you a witch?" she asked, reminding herself not to be shy. This girl, woman, girl, had seen her naked.
"I'm an ethnodemonologist."
She curbed her tongue against anxious questions about that being like a Satanist, because people assumed all kinds of things about witches, too. "You study demons?"
"Uh-huh." She finished up the braid and went to work on the other side. "My husband was half-demon. Oh, gosh, I mean he is, not was. He is half-demon, he's not dead, we're just divorced. He's my ex-husband."
"You must have married young," Tara said, practically on auto-pilot. Half-demon. A demon in the family. And as Harry talked about her marriage and why it had ended, and how her husband had seemed a perfectly normal human being until the birthday when he changed, she felt sinking fear clutching at her stomach.
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