Willow laughed, showering Oz with little water droplets. Her hair was soaked. Of course all of him was soaked. Water was running off him in little make shift rivers. Wiping water out of her eyes, Willow grinned apologetically at her drenched boyfriend."I had no idea Mom was going to set the automatic sprinklers!" She glanced down at her soaked shirt. "Or I wouldn't have worn white." The wry glance she gave him spoke volumes.
Oz shrugged. Then looked down at his own white shirt. "Hm." Wringing out his outer bowling shirt, he handed it to her. Willow took it and then handed it back.
"Nevermind. C'mon in. We can put our stuff in the dryer." Willow fumbled for her keys. Her parents were incredibly considerate. Yeah right. That's why she was soaking wet at one AM. All it took was one little note. One note saying, the sprinklers are on. Of course they'd never expert their daughter to be coming in well after midnight.
Oz was trying to be manly. But Willow saw him shivering. "Up the stairs to the right." She told him. Then she stopped. Watching him go up the stairs, Willow grinned. It was a big goofy silly she was glad Oz didn't see. They were home alone. And she'd just told him to go up to her room. Then just as suddenly she became nervous. 'He's never been in my room before. I have a boy in my room. And that boy is not Xander.'
Mimicking Oz, Willow shrugged and headed up the stairs. She found him in the center of her room looking well drowned. A little puddle was forming at his feet. She couldn't help the smile that lit up her face. "I'll go get you some towels."
Grabbing a bunch of fluffy towels from the hall closet, she handed two to Oz and wrapped one around herself. Blushing she muttered. "Um, you can take all t-those wet clothes off."
Oz grinned. Then with a dramatic flourish, he disappeared into the bathroom. Willow tumbled onto the bed and resisted the urge to speed dial Buffy. The slayer loved hearing about anything and everything Oz. And Willow loved to talk about the quiet werewolf.
Three months after they'd decided to 'still' and here he was in her house, taking off his clothes! Willow had to work hard to stifle that laugh. Then she realized she was supposed to be getting out of her own wet things.
At lightening speed she tore off all her wet things and tossed them onto the floor. Snagging her night gown she pulled it on and just barely managed to get a dry bra into her hands before there was a soft knock at the door. Slipping the bra underneath her shirt, she quickly employed the women's getting changed at gym class trick to get it into place.
"Are you decent?" Oz asked. "I could go downstairs if you want me to . . ."
"No. It's okay. I'm dressed. What about you?" Willow blushed again.
He pushed open her bedroom door and Willow laughed. He had the big fluffy pink towel wrapped around his waste and a smaller towel wrapped around his head like a swami. "Dressed. Not decently."
Willow grinned at him. "It's a look."
"Not a good one." He drawled.
"Go ahead and sit down. I'll take our things down and dump them in the dryer." Willow held out her hands for his wet things. He handed them over with a wink. "No starch this time."
Willow rolled her eyes at him. Then she reached down and grabbed her own pile of damp things. Moving out into the hall, she spotted an envelope on the floor. Recognizing it, she picked it up and stuffed it into her pocket. Then she went down to the basement. Dumping the clothes, she pulled out the letter.
The edges had yellowed a bit. It was almost three years old. Walking back up stairs, Willow turned it over and over in her hands. After so long . . . After so long she finally had someone to give the letter to. Debating with herself, she opened the door to her room. Oz was sitting on the bed looking like a pink clad genie.
Without thinking, Willow reached out and tugged the towel free. His hair was plastered to his head and was the same dark red as her own wet hair. He frowned. "Without my spiky hair I'm powerless." He grumbled.
Willow pulled a hair dryer out from under the bed. "Trust me?"
His green eyes twinkled and Willow felt another blush creeping up to color her face. "Oh, implicitly."
Willow grabbed a comb and handed him the letter. Plugging the dryer in she sat on the bed next to him. "What's this?"
"It's stupid. I wrote it, a long time ago. It's for somebody who likes me. I wrote it for the person who would eventually like me." Willow was blushing furiously. "Now that I have a somebody. You, I have kinda, so it, the letter, belongs to you."
"Do you want me to read it?" Oz asked. His face was solemn. The letter rested gently in his hand.
"Yes." Willow answered. Inside she shook a bit. It was a stupid letter. But she had promised herself a long time ago that the first man who liked her would read it. And here he sat in a big pink fluffy towel in her room, treating her letter as if it were some mystical object.
Oz nodded and flipped the letter to the back and pulled it slowly out of it's envelope where it had spent three years waiting. Willow couldn't stand it. Flipping on the hair dryer, she began to gently comb out his wet hair, as he began to read. But because she'd thought out each word a hundred times, they came to mind as if it were the day she'd written it.
"Dear Wonderful Person:
I never thought anyone would ever get to read this letter. See, I never thought anyone would actually stick around long enough to like me. I've never been popular. I've never been beautiful. I've never been anything but me. And I've never thought that was good enough for anyone but me."
His hair was incredibly soft as wisps of it collided with her hand as she tried to tame it. The Hair dryer hummed and she concentrated on her job. It was easier not to worry about what he was thinking if she kept focused. And he was so still.
"So I sat down one day and I wrote this letter. It's kinda like a solid piece of hope. A reminder that I always wanted someone like you. And even if no one ever reads this letter then at least I know that I had enough faith in blind luck to actually write this down. And whoever you are, I know you are incredibly generous and special and the one person in my whole life I will never forget.
Willow"
The hair dryer clicked off. Oz's hair stood up in a wonderful array of untamable spikes. The red had lightened to it's normal mix of golds, oranges and reds and she had nothing left to hide behind. Still, Willow ran the comb through his hair in an effort to stall and because she really liked his hair.
Oz placed the letter on the bed. Then he neatly folded it and carefully slipped it back into the envelope. Willow swallowed convulsively. "Should I have thrown it away? I know it's stupid. . ."
"No." Came the soft reply.
Oz turned around to face her. "It's not stupid. I love it. I just can't believe you gave it to me. . ."
"Why? D-don't you like me?" Panic flirted through Willow turning the room cold.
"No, it's not that. . . I like you." Oz brushed a lock of her damp hair back into place. "Your the most thoughtful, beautiful girl I've ever met, and I can't believe that you gave this to me."
A soft smile lit Willow's face. "You think I'm beautiful?"
"Do I think you're . . ." His face was incredulous. "I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
"You don't . ." Willow lowered her eyes. "You can't mean . ."
Oz cupped her chin and kissed her. Willow leaned forward in pleased surprise. He held onto her for a long time. He only let her go so she could breath. "Don't ever think you're not beautiful or special or anything less then amazing."
Willow's smile was soft and still full of surprise. Then Oz did it again, he winked at her. A small laugh escaped her. "Now turn around. I want to dry your hair." He picked up the comb.
"'Cause I look like a drowned rat?" She turned around.
"They don't make rats as pretty as you, although I hear they're trying."
The End
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