Buffy the Vampire Slayer Preferences + imagines/one shots

Willow - First Kiss

We were sitting on the outskirts of the party, on Buffy's lawn in our jackets that were too thin for the chilly evening. She'd made me snort out an undignified laugh for about the fifth time and every time our bodies rocked with giggles, we seemed to inch closer. She smelt like a perfume I used to use, vanilla with hints of sandalwood. I knew we'd crossed a line when I was so close I could identify her perfume.

I had carefully applied sparkly eye-shadow to her eyes before the party, black to match her velvet dress. Now the glitter had cascaded down to her cheekbones, adding shimmer to the pink blush I'd used.

We looked out to the street where a car or two would pass every five minutes. It was quiet, cold (but we didn't mind) and just us. She nudged me in the side when I told a joke I don't remember but it must have been funny because she turned to look at me.

"You can't say that!"

"What? It's true!"

We laughed again. Our arms were touching, our eyes were glued to each other's. And I leaned in to kiss her. I didn't think it through, I didn't plan to do it or even think to do it. It just happened. I kissed her lips quickly but firmly before I pulled away and realised, with horror, what I had done.

I saw our friendship flash before my eyes. I was certain I'd made the stupidest mistake of my life. With my eyes wide and my heart beating faster than I ever thought possible, I said, "I am so sorry."

But she just put her hand on my shoulder and kissed me again. It was in the same way - hurried, questioning, testing the waters. When she pulled back, her face was pink and her eyes wouldn't stop blinking. I exhaled heavily, shakily.

And then we did it together. We leaned in at the same time and our lips met in a kiss that was longer. Just as inexperienced but a lot more purposeful. I was nervous to touch her, although my hands felt awkward braced on the pavement. I dared to touch one of her cheeks just as she did the same to me.

She meant everything to me but it scared me that we were doing this. What did it mean to her?

We broke apart. My hands dropped into my lap. They itched to touch her skin again.

She smiled nervously and I returned it.

She slowly suggested with a stutter that maybe we should go back inside. I nodded. She sprung up and held out a hand to help me up, which I took without hesitation. We stood in front of each other, our hands joined, for a moment too long before I took my hand away and shoved it into my pocket. We walked back to the house so close that our arms kept brushing and bumping. We entered through the front door (I insisted she go first) and everyone was in the living room, chatting and joking a little too loudly.

Nobody questioned where we had been.

We'd later find out that they had seen us on the lawn and didn't want to embarrass us.

There was a space on the couch and a spare beanbag, so we took them. Our eyes kept meeting across the room and as soon as one of us caught the other staring, we would look away and flush.

We were so young and innocent.

It makes me smile, looking back, to remember what we were like at the start of our relationship.

And how fifty years later, my wife can still make me blush like that.