Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: A fill for Evil_Little_Dog at Comment-Fic. Their prompt was: "Just because you can change the weather to suit your needs doesn't mean you should."
"It will not rain on my wedding day." Willow's eyes crackle with electricity, with the magic and the lightning missing from the rain that pitter-patters across the roof and drips its way down the window pane of the Summers' bathroom window.
Tara wraps her bathrobe around her more tightly with a little shiver that rattles the curlers in her hair. "I thin-think it's k-kind of pretty," she dissents in a quiet voice. "And it'll be ease—be easier f-for Spike, too," she adds.
"I can fix this," Willow promises.
"No!" Tara's voice is loud, disrupting the intrusive sound of the rain beat and the quiet rumble of activity below their feet as the other household residents rush through last minute preparations.
"Aw, baby," Willow turns from the window and reaches out to touch Tara's hand reassuringly. Whoever made up the rule about not seeing your bride clearly wasn't marrying someone like Tara, or was just blind enough not to notice how she looked just as beautiful even before the makeup and the hairstyling. Didn't appreciate what they had.
Willow slips one of the dried flowers from the potpourri bowl and clasps Tara's hands around it. "See? You're even thinking of the others on our day." She smiles. "You know that's why I love you. But I can fix that too, no problem."
"Will-Willow you can-can-can't just go around changing the weather because you want to. It's wrong. It up-upsets the b-balance."
Willow smiles. "It's okay, baby, see?" She waves her hand back at the window and watches Tara's eyes go wide. "Look, everything is going to be great. So just forget about it." She squeezes Tara's fingers.
Everything is going to be great. Everything is going to be great.
"Oh, Willow," Tara breathes. The tension is gone, the argument forgotten. "Oh, look, it's b-beautiful." She keeps her hand in Willow's as they peer together out the window. Tara leans her head gently against Willow's shoulder, mindful of the curlers.
"It's perfect." Willow smiles and tucks a small escaped piece of black hair behind her ear as they watch the snow fall.