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ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Secret Smiles
By ralst

 

Anya watched the two women covertly sneak peeks at one another from across the room. It was cute, she supposed, in an 'I'm going to be sick' kind of way. All pretence and coquettish smiles, rather than an honest 'I want to have sex now'. She didn't like it. Willow was meant to be pining away for Tara and the new girl, Dullas? O'Hare? - who named their children after an airport anyway - was just meant to merge into the background with all the other cannon fodder.

Willow giggled and Anya was forced to imagine her being torn limb from limb by a deranged herd of bunnies. The image brought a smile to her lips but didn't last past Willow's second secretive smile. God, she hated the way she smiled.

Willow smiles; sweet, sincere, overly charming and prone to make boyfriends go all googly-eyed and stupid. In the days of 'them' she could have striped naked and offered to perform various acts from the book Xander acquired from the man in the raincoat, and still one smile from his Willow and he'd quickly abandoned her for one lame excuse after the other - as if they really needed him to save the world!

What was even worse. Ten, twenty, ten trillion times worse, was that the damn, silly smile also worked on her. She snarled, bickered, threw imaginary daggers with her eyes, but she still ended up caving in to that smile. Offering comfort, a bed, a shoulder to lean on, even her precious green paper with the heads of dead men.

The airport girl blew Willow a kiss.

Anya stole the remote control from Andrew, who whined piteously, much to her satisfaction, and turned the television onto something loud and violent. Her gambit worked and little Miss Cannon Fodder turned towards the screen. Twenty seconds later one of the television characters exploded and Willow turned green and rapidly left the room.

Anya's smile was as bright as a new penny.

When Anya left the room it was obvious she was in pursuit of the witch, but no one was paying close enough attention to notice. So, with absolutely no attempt at deception, Anya tracked Willow to her room and barged in.

"Do you mind?"

"No."

Anya didn't ask why the redhead was topless, she merely took the time to observe the fresh display of skin and curve, and compare it to her own. She knew that she was pretty; Xander had told her, as had the man with the protruding belly who worked with him, but she had never really considered the beauty of another woman. Yet there she stood, cataloguing all the ways her own shape was superior to Willow's, and the one thought that kept repeating itself inside her mind was 'she's pretty'.

Willow scowled and reached for her top.

"Do you like to play with your breasts?"

The top fell to the floor as Willow snapped her attention back to Anya.

"Xander liked to play with mine when we were together and you're a lesbian so you must like to play with breasts and yours are always close by."

There was something about the way Willow's face went red and veiny - that's normal veiny, not evil veiny - that had always appealed to Anya. It was that little sign that she'd finally managed to push the other woman over the edge. This times in addition to watching Willow's face turn red, Anya witness the spectacle of her nipples sit up and take notice. It was fascinating.

Willow's arms came up to shield her chest and a gust of impossible wind pushed Anya back against the door - hard.

"Leave. Now."

Before Anya could refuse her body had disappeared into the door and been deposited on the other side. She thought it extremely rude and was about to make that thought known to the witch when she was interrupted by Dullas.

The girl had the nerve to smile and gesture at the door to Willow's room with one of their nauseating 'aren't we sweet' smiles. As if all the world was meant to be happy that they were young and in love. It made Anya want to hit something, although she wasn't stupid enough to pick a fledgling slayer or the not so wicked witch of the Scooby gang. But then fists had never been her weapon of choice...

"Tell Willow I enjoyed her breasts."

...not when words worked so much better.

The End

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