Not Her Favorite Color - Xander/Cordelia, Xander/Willow, PG
Characters: Xander, Cordelia, Willow
Pairing: Xander/Cordelia, Xander/Willow
Summary: At the Prom, Xander and Cordelia rehash old quarrels.
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
“She's looking particularly beautiful tonight, isn't she?” said Xander in a matter-of-fact tone, looking out over the dance floor.
It was such an astonishingly tactless thing to say under the circumstances that Cordelia actually stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds before remembering that open-mouthed staring was for the losers she very temporarily hung out with.
“Who, Willow?” she said. She already knew the answer, but was feeling so angry that she wanted a specific confirmation so that she would have more to yell about.
“Yeah.”
“You know, Xander, even by your neanderthal standards, that's a statement so utterly devoid of any kind of social grace that even the apes you closely resemble would - You know what? Never mind. I think it's actually pretty average.”
He didn't reply, or look at her directly, which annoyed her even more.
“So was that an abstract comment, or are you planning to do something about it? You know, like express your undying affection by going out with her until you find someone to cheat on her with?”
“I don't regret it, you know,” he said. “Any of it. The thing with you, or the thing with her. Because that's not how it works.”
He turned and faced her, and she was surprised to see that he had been crying. That wasn't a side of his character that he showed her, even when they had been - She wasn't one of the people he felt he could show weakness around. And that was fine by her. That was more than fine by her. Let him cry when his freakazoid friends were around to hold his hand and tell him she was the asshole. Tears were a device to make the other person sorry. He didn't deserve tears.
“That's not how it works,” he repeated. “Because you're gorgeous and confident and smart and determined, and money was always the least of what made you Queen C. And because she's cute and brilliant and has a heart big enough for the whole world, even such parts of it as ignore her for years, and she's going to go to college and become a badass witch and have less and less in common with the guy sweeping the pizza parlor and occasionally sharpening stakes. And guys like me don't wind up there, you know? They don't wind up on the inside. But every once in a while they get to look in the windows for a little, and if they're smart they don't complain about it, because it's the best thing that will ever happen to them.”
He smiled at her. Cordelia had heard the phrase “a ghost of a smile.” The one on Xander's face had probably met Lincoln.
“Whew,” he added. “That sounded way less speechlike inside my head.”
Cordelia blinked at him a few times, and then stood on tiptoes and kissed him hard.
“Stay here,” she told him, and headed off to the women's room. Once there, she pulled out a tissue and blew her nose very carefully, so as not to smear her makeup, and muttered fiercely into it, “Dork.” Then she went back onto the dancefloor.
Willow was, of course, dancing with Oz. Cordelia grabbed her arm and dragged her over to the side of the room, protesting loudly.
“Listen,” she told the confused redhead. “You're not in love with Oz. You've been making cow-eyes at Xander since you were old enough to scare off men for reasons other than cooties, and that isn't going to go away just because you decided to engage in your favorite pastime of sticking your fingers in your ears and going 'nah nah nah.' So go find him - you can probably track him by the lingering aroma of processed sugar - and tell him that, and if you ever ever ever ever ever tell anyone I said this, especially him, I will make your life so miserable that you will yearn for the good old days of Angelus. Now go away. Quickly.”
Willow stared up at her, wide-eyed, and then rushed off. Cordelia watched her go.
“I don't look good in white anyway,” she muttered to herself.
Pairing: Xander/Cordelia, Xander/Willow
Summary: At the Prom, Xander and Cordelia rehash old quarrels.
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
“She's looking particularly beautiful tonight, isn't she?” said Xander in a matter-of-fact tone, looking out over the dance floor.
It was such an astonishingly tactless thing to say under the circumstances that Cordelia actually stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds before remembering that open-mouthed staring was for the losers she very temporarily hung out with.
“Who, Willow?” she said. She already knew the answer, but was feeling so angry that she wanted a specific confirmation so that she would have more to yell about.
“Yeah.”
“You know, Xander, even by your neanderthal standards, that's a statement so utterly devoid of any kind of social grace that even the apes you closely resemble would - You know what? Never mind. I think it's actually pretty average.”
He didn't reply, or look at her directly, which annoyed her even more.
“So was that an abstract comment, or are you planning to do something about it? You know, like express your undying affection by going out with her until you find someone to cheat on her with?”
“I don't regret it, you know,” he said. “Any of it. The thing with you, or the thing with her. Because that's not how it works.”
He turned and faced her, and she was surprised to see that he had been crying. That wasn't a side of his character that he showed her, even when they had been - She wasn't one of the people he felt he could show weakness around. And that was fine by her. That was more than fine by her. Let him cry when his freakazoid friends were around to hold his hand and tell him she was the asshole. Tears were a device to make the other person sorry. He didn't deserve tears.
“That's not how it works,” he repeated. “Because you're gorgeous and confident and smart and determined, and money was always the least of what made you Queen C. And because she's cute and brilliant and has a heart big enough for the whole world, even such parts of it as ignore her for years, and she's going to go to college and become a badass witch and have less and less in common with the guy sweeping the pizza parlor and occasionally sharpening stakes. And guys like me don't wind up there, you know? They don't wind up on the inside. But every once in a while they get to look in the windows for a little, and if they're smart they don't complain about it, because it's the best thing that will ever happen to them.”
He smiled at her. Cordelia had heard the phrase “a ghost of a smile.” The one on Xander's face had probably met Lincoln.
“Whew,” he added. “That sounded way less speechlike inside my head.”
Cordelia blinked at him a few times, and then stood on tiptoes and kissed him hard.
“Stay here,” she told him, and headed off to the women's room. Once there, she pulled out a tissue and blew her nose very carefully, so as not to smear her makeup, and muttered fiercely into it, “Dork.” Then she went back onto the dancefloor.
Willow was, of course, dancing with Oz. Cordelia grabbed her arm and dragged her over to the side of the room, protesting loudly.
“Listen,” she told the confused redhead. “You're not in love with Oz. You've been making cow-eyes at Xander since you were old enough to scare off men for reasons other than cooties, and that isn't going to go away just because you decided to engage in your favorite pastime of sticking your fingers in your ears and going 'nah nah nah.' So go find him - you can probably track him by the lingering aroma of processed sugar - and tell him that, and if you ever ever ever ever ever tell anyone I said this, especially him, I will make your life so miserable that you will yearn for the good old days of Angelus. Now go away. Quickly.”
Willow stared up at her, wide-eyed, and then rushed off. Cordelia watched her go.
“I don't look good in white anyway,” she muttered to herself.