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“Root,” an impatient voice calls from the doorway.
Willow looks around, frowning. She has no idea what, or where, or why, ‘Root’ is. There aren’t any trees in the science lab.
Her lab partner, Sam, doesn’t seem to share the same confusion. “Hey, sweetie,” she calls back, an easy grin spreading over her face.
The girl steps through the doorway, an irritated expression on her face. Willow recognises her. It’s the girl everyone avoids in the hallways. She’d be the talk of campus – if everyone wasn’t too terrified to talk about her. She was weird – even for Sunnydale.
“I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.”
Sam glances at the clock, then quirks her eyebrows. “So you have,” she replies, still smiling despite the glower on scary girl’s face. “We’re just about finished here. We’ll be quicker if you help us out.”
They’re doing a project for Willow’s chemistry class. Strictly speaking, it was supposed to have been done in class, but, with the latest demon-of-the-week on the loose, Willow had been forced to miss class.
Their professor had evidently decided that Sam and Willow seemed trustworthy enough to do the project after hours, without need for supervision, hence Willow spending her Thursday evening in the science block.
Luckily Sam hadn’t seemed to upset at her for skipping out on class and making her have to work after hours. She’d just shrugged and said that it’d probably be her fault next time and Willow could make up for it then.
The girl snorts, “You’re trying to get me to do your homework for you, Root? Nice try.”
Willow looks around again. This ‘root’ thing makes no sense.
“You love science,” Sam replies, cocking her head to the side. There’s a glint to her eyes that Willow’s never seen before. She can’t quite discern it, but the other girl seems to.
She steps forward. There’s only a desk between them now, and Willow has to consciously resist the urge to step back.
“I don’t love anything,” the girl replies plainly. It makes Willow flinch. Sam, on the other hand, just laughs.
“Of course,” Sam replies obligingly. There’s a slight hint of patronising in her tone – one that the girl seems to pick up on. “Oh,” Sam suddenly says, “of course – I’m being rude. Have you two met?” Willow manages to jerk her head, ‘no'. “Willow this is Shaw. Shaw, Willow.”
Willow much preferred life two seconds ago, when Shaw didn’t seem to register her existence in the classroom.
“N-nice to meet you,” Willow says, then draws in a breath. She’s not scary, Willow reminds herself. Definitely not compared to the things Willow sees on a daily basis. Compared to a vampire, or a demon, Shaw isn’t scary. She isn’t…
Shaw just nods in greeting, her eyes flicking over to Willow, then back to Sam with disinterest.
Sam looks amused by the situation, and places her hand on Willow’s arm placatingly. “Don’t worry about her. She’s all bark – unless you want the bite.” She (sort of) winks in Shaw’s direction; Willow has no idea what to do, and quickly decides to ignore the innuendo. “Really, she’s a big teddy bear, aren’t you Sameen? She loves cuddling,” Sam says to Willow, without looking away from Shaw.
Shaw leans forwards onto Sam and Willow’s desk, a menacing expression on her face.
(She’s not scary, Willow reminds herself).
“Oh, I beg you to try it,” Shaw says, her voice low and threatening. There’s something about her voice that sends Willow’s hairs on end, and a shiver runs down a spine. She’s not sure whether it’s fear or – well, she has no idea what the alternative could be. And this Shaw is definitely scary. “I’d love an excuse to break your bones.”
“I’d prefer it if you break my bed,” Root replies easily, as though Shaw hadn’t just threatened her with bodily harm.
Willows not sure she can ignore that comment. She’s not sure what to do with it either. She turns it over in her head, trying to find some clue in it that will make her understand what’s going on here.
Honestly, if she didn’t know better, she’d say they were flirting.
Which – no. They can’t be…
Not that there’s anything wrong with some Sappho energy. Willow’s all for the lesbians, in a, she’d join the GSA as a proud ‘S’, sorta way. Proud straight ally. That’s Willow alright: ally extraordinaire. It’s why she’d know if there were any lesbians in any of her classes – there definitely weren’t. There weren’t many gay people on campus in general, and they all wore rainbow pins and badges.
Willow had been lab partners with Sam all semester. Sam didn’t wear any rainbow pins or talk about going to pride marches, or GSA meetings. Willow would have been able to tell if Sam was gay.
Probably.
Besides, no one in their right mind would date Shaw – straight, or otherwise.
“As long as you’re not there,” Shaw replies evenly.
Yeah. Not flirting then.
At least, Shaw’s definitely not flirting. She’s not the flirty-type, Willow thinks. Shaw’s all Miss Play-It-Cool, and never show anyone your emotions. It’s the Angel recipe: be all broody and monotone and wait until some golden ray of sunshine plucks you from the shadows and teaches you how to smile.
Not that Willow’s casting Shaw in a romance film. She’s more of the horror genre type.
“I’ll just watch then,” Sam replies, and Willow ducks her head to hide her blush. She thinks they’ve both forgotten she’s here.
“You? Keep your hands to yourself? That’d be a first,” Shaw says dryly.
“If you’re worried I can’t control myself, you can always get the cuffs out.”
Willow squeaks. Sam looks over to her, an amused expression on her face. Shaw blinks when she realises Willow’s still there, before quickly masking over her surprise into indifference.
“Sorry,” Sam says unapologetically. Her eyes stay fixed on Shaw’s.
Willow swallows awkwardly. “I, uh, I need the restroom,” she mutters, sliding out from behind the counter and quickly making her exit.
She’s overreacting. She’s being all innocent, naïve Willow. It’s clearly not a big deal. They’re college students now. All grown up, and adult-y, with frat parties and red cups that have liquid in them that’s definitely alcohol.
Sam and Shaw are clearly just messing about.
Or, messing with her, Willow realises. They know Willow’s virginal reputation – she probably reeks of it – and they’re making fun of her.
Yeah, that makes sense. Far more sense than Sam and Shaw being in some relationship, anyway.
It’s not even the female thing – mostly. It’s the Sam and Shaw thing. Sam’s normal. Sure, she sort of appeared out of nowhere, and Willow’s never seen her in the cafeteria, or hanging around campus. Plus, Willow doesn’t really know much about her.
But they chat when they’re doing their project, and Sam seems normal, and nice. Willow thinks they’re friends. Willow had told Sam all about her break up with Oz, and Sam had been sympathetic the entire time.
Sam was normal. And Shaw wasn’t.
There were… rumours about Shaw. Buffy promised that Shaw didn’t set her slayer-senses off, but even Buffy still felt uncomfortable around her. Not that Shaw was around much either, but when she was, everyone knew it; unlike Sam, who seemed to stick to the shadows – in a non vampire-y sort of way.
Willow takes in a breath, and forces herself to re-enter the lab.
There’s no longer a desk between Sam and Shaw. And if they’d just been flirting to mess with Willow, then Willow’s really not sure why they used Willow’s bathroom break as the time to start making out.
Willow freezes at the sight of it. Sam’s still sitting on her chair, but Shaw’s now practically in her lap, the two entirely tangled up in each other.
They must have heard Willow open the door, because Shaw – slower than Willow would have liked – retracts herself from Sam. She doesn’t put much distance between them though; Sam’s hand stays wrapped around her waist.
“Sorry!” Willow exclaims, anxiously looking behind her. Part of her wants to run in the other direction and never come back. She’s sure her face is tomato-red right now.
“Hey,” Sam greets her breathily. “Sorry about that.” Sam doesn’t sound very sorry. Neither of them look overly embarrassed either. Willow seems to be the only one who’s flustered here.
“That’s fine!” Willow says hurriedly. She wants to make sure they know she’s totally cool with this. She’s the ‘S’ part of GSA, remember? Straight ally. Entirely cool with gay people doing gay things in the lab. That’s totally cool.
Sam and Shaw exchange a look. Willow feels as voyeuristic looking at that as she did when she caught them all wrapped around each other.
“So,” Sam starts. “I was wondering if you’d mind if we finish this tomorrow lunchtime? She’s my… ride, and she’s not exactly patient.”
“Patient,” Shaw scoffs. “I’ve been waiting twenty minutes.” Shaw glances at the clock. “Almost thirty.”
“And I appreciate that so much, sweetie,” Sam replies. Shaw rolls her eyes. Sam looks back at Willow, an apologetic smile on her face. “Would you mind?”
“No, that’s – that’s totally fine!” Willow says, secretly quite glad to have an escape from this.
“Great! Thanks,” Sam says. “I’ll just get my stuff together then,” she tells Shaw.
“I’ll wait outside,” Shaw says. Sam nods, and Shaw leaves. Willow tries to not tense up when Shaw walks past her. She’s not sure she succeeds.
Willow slowly makes her way back to her desk, and begins sorting out their stuff. There’s a decent amount of equipment that they have to file away before they can just leave. Willow’s never felt more anxious about that than right now.
Willow hadn’t realised how much Shaw’s presence was acting as a buffer between her, Sam and all the awkwardness. Now all Willow can think about is how uncomfortable everything feels, and how much she wished she’d opened the door slower, and louder, in some way that would’ve meant she’d never seen Sam and Shaw kissing each other like that.
She’s not sure if Sam feels the same way. She certainly hadn’t seemed too uncomfortable by Willow walking in on them. But now Shaw’s gone she’s not said a word, instead solely focussed on putting all the stuff back in the cupboards and drawers.
“Are you good?” Sam asks, breaking the silence. Her voice is quiet, but not gentle. Willow’s not a genius – not when it comes to the social stuff, at least – but she’s pretty sure she knows what Sam’s asking.
“Yeah. Of course,” Willow says.
Sam nods slowly, her face relaxing. Willow never even noticed Sam tensing up. She thinks it must have happened sometime after Shaw left the room, whilst Willow had been trying to avoid all eye contact.
“Just surprised,” Willow admits, not quite able to stop herself.
“I figured you’d picked up on it,” Sam says.
“I wasn’t really looking.”
Sam hums quietly. There’s a certain pointedness to it, as though she has more to say, but doesn’t know if she should. Willow’s not brave enough to call her out on it. She doesn’t have to – Sam doesn’t feel the need to hold her tongue in the same way Willow would.
“I thought you would,” Sam says, placing an emphasis on ‘you’ that Willow doesn’t know what to do with. She’s not sure what Sam’s insinuating – and she’s not sure she wants to know.
A comfortable quiet falls in the lab as they finish clearing up. The silence feels far less intimidating than it had a few moments ago. But Willow’s still not one for keeping her mouth shut too long. Neither is Sam, most of the time. It’s why they get on; both are equally eager to nerd out over the others’ interests.
“Why did she keep calling you Root?” Willow asks, curiosity getting the bet of her.
Sam pauses, then shrugs. There’s a forced nonchalance to it that’s given away by the calculating look in her eyes as she appraises Willow. “It’s what my friends call me,” she finally says.
Willow bites her lip. “She’s a friend?” she mutters the words, unsure if she wants Sam to hear the question or not.
Sam just smirks. “Something like that,” she replies. She stands up, filing away her last book into her bag. “You should,” she says casually, as she pulls the bag over her shoulder.
“I should…” Willow cuts herself off, blushing as the image of Shaw and Sam kissing flashes in her mind.
“You should call me Root,” Sam mercifully interrupts Willow’s thoughts. Willow shakes the image of Shaw standing between Root’s legs, hands tugging at Root’s hair whilst Root’s hands snaked under her shirt, out of her brain. “We’re friends,” Sam – Root – adds at Willow’s hesitation. She says it with a confidence that Willow could never emulate.
Willow nods. “Yeah, okay – cool!” Willow says, then promptly cringes. Her cheeks are so hot she’s sure they match her hair.
Root just smiles. “See you later, Willow.”
“Bye… Root.”