kiss kiss kiss || a tentative , exploratory kiss between friends.
In the meadow it is truly quiet. All but for the birds and insects, of course, Wraith can hear nothing at all but the sound of Clark breathing beside her and the way her own heartbeat sounds behind her ears. It's about the only place in the world that Wraith has ever felt truly at peace, without some nearby past trauma nagging in her ear, pricking her skin or punching her in the stomach.
She supposes that's why @kent-el brought her here. Hard to find anything wrong in the middle of nowhere.
"My name's Willow, by the way." She murmured to the sky earlier. "You should call me that. Willow. When we're alone."
It's been a long time since she's really felt like herself, and it's hard to sit in that for a little while. Wraith the Oracle, as much as she is Wraith the Oracle, is a product. A stylised version of herself, a projection of the world's need for vengeance and understanding. More and more that line between has blurred until it's impossible to distinguish the woman from the hero. A foil to this: Superman and Clark Kent are one in the same and impossible to separate, but they can at least look each other in the eye. He stands by who he is, what he does - and he does it with joy.
She'd like to be more like that. She'd like it if he knew the whole of her, too. It starts there, with the name. With this time away from everything that makes her the Oracle.
Their knuckles graze in the grass and she does nothing to move away. It feels comfortable there, touching. So much so that her fingers twitch to seek more contact, eventually lacing with his until they're holding hands.
Willow turns her head to the side, sensing eyes on her, and smiles when she catches him trying to pretend that he hasn't been looking at her this whole time. His cheeks dimple as he smiles back.
It's only now that she realises how close they are and feels her cheeks flush. She usually finds that she can't look him in the eye for too long without giggling and turning away - a shy habit. This time, she's frozen in place by intent in his gaze that rolls down to her mouth and darts back up to her eyes.
Clark makes a slight movement forward and stops just shy of her. Willow mimics him, moving just slightly in his direction. An invitation. Still and trembling only slightly from the heavy, thumping heart in her chest, she waits for Clark to close the rest of the distance.
The sun feels brighter overhead as her eyes flutter shut; her whole body feels bathed in it as his free hand finds her waist, lightly, as if steadying himself against her. Willow realises that this is the first time in her life that a kiss has ever really meant anything at all.
It’s this revelation that has her surging forward, chasing his kiss after they break for air. Willow kisses him one more time, quick and gentle despite the sudden urgency that has overcome her. Her cheeks are pink when she withdraws.
“—Sorry, I—“ She laughs, embarrassed at herself. Afraid she has given away too much. “I, um—“
