Fic!
[ETA Random Tangent: BuffyWorld's back up!!]
So, the comics have been pissing me off somewhat. Despite the fact that I've pretty much stopped reading them I have not been able to escape the annoyance they breed within me. And so I wrote this instead.
Behold, the first Buffy-Xander friendship fic I've ever written (with a good dose of B/S and X/A thrown in for seasoning)! It's less than a thousand words, but I needed to get this off my chest. Who knows, maybe next time I'll deal with the nonsense that is Buffy and Dawn. (Does anyone know if Joss is an only child? Because they have to be the weirdest siblings ever...)
This is quite probably a U, but can I call it a PG for the street-cred? The title's a reference to the hideous concept (well, in this context anyway) of UST. No offence meant to the Bander people, of course, but your ship is not my ship - I feel it sailed long ago.
Warnings: Death/grief (in the most mild and non-depressive sense)
Resolution.
She’d known the kiss was coming. She hadn’t been sure when it was going to happen, but it had been building between them for months, and now it was here.
The stained wood and gothic furnishings fell further into darkness as his face grew large in front of hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and through her lashes, just before the darkness, she could see his eyelid droop as well.
The scent of male drifted up her nose, sparking off her heartbeat. She wasn’t sure which of them whispered first.
“Ahn…”
“Spike…”
It was, however, at the same moment that they leapt away from each other, the imprint of the other’s lips barely pressed on their mouths, eyes wide open and flustered as hell.
“Oh, Xand, I’m sorry!”
“I don’t know what I was doing.”
“I mean, I just don’t think about you that way.”
“You’re not even my type!”
“I must’ve -” Buffy stopped, welcoming the light flooding back into her vision. “Huh?”
“I guess I -”
“What d’you mean I’m not your type?”
Xander jumped, raising his hands in defence. “Nothing bad, I -”
It did not save him from the Wrath of Buffy. “Are you saying I’m not attractive?” She put her hands on her hips. “Because I’m telling you, buster, I’m cute! And I have superpowers!”
The hands lowered. “Buffy,” Xander said, his eye filling with sincerity. “I love you. But if we dated…” He shook his head. “I’d go insane.”
“Hey!” Her finger rose before she could stop it, as did the colour in her cheeks. “That happened to one guy.”
“I don’t mean literally!” He brushed a hand through his hair. For weeks that move had been making her sit up a little straighter. Now it did nothing, but she was too annoyed to care. “When I’m in a relationship I like to know what’s what: if I’m pissing my girlfriend off, if I bought her the wrong flavour muffins, if we’re, you know, OK.”
In a second, however, her annoyance collapsed into hurt, and she crossed her arms. “I guess that’s more than you could hope for from Buffy, the Emotion Slayer, huh?”
“You know I don’t mean that.” His tone was mildly chastising.
She shrugged, suddenly listless, and dropped her eyes to the stone floor of the conference-room. Slowly she found herself folded into a hug, tears leaking from her eyes onto Xander’s warm and wonderfully platonic shoulder. Why had they let themselves become flirting buddies? With Willow away so much it had left both of them so friendless.
Finally, they moved apart, settling at a more comfortable distance than before. Buffy tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes. “So, you miss Anya, huh?”
“I guess I do,” he replied, with an almost dark little smile. It didn’t reach his eye. She smiled her own ironic smile back, until the moment passed and he continued, “Sorry about the whole…” He waved a hand, which seemed to sum up the situation perfectly.
Buffy shrugged. “There are worse people you could’ve replaced me with.” What surprised her was that it was the truth. “Besides,” she continued, “it’s not as if I was exactly transference-free.”
Xander grinned, and then it grew to a chuckle. Buffy giggled with him, not much liking the hollow sound they made, but letting it out anyway.
“God, we’re pathetic,” she said at last, as the laughter petered out.
“Well, you know, I’m almost flattered.” Buffy raised an eyebrow, the phrase ‘compact, but well-muscled’ haring its way through her consciousness. “I,” he put a hand over his heart, “Xander Lavelle Harris, finally got to see what it’s like to be part of one of Buffy Summers’ crazy, angst-filled relationships.”
“You so did not…” She was still smiling. It wasn’t really too far from happiness. “And, hey!” she continued, realising she’d missed her cue. “They were not ‘angst-filled’.”
“Because those nights on the back porch were all about the joy and merriment.” The irony somehow took the sting away.
“Yeah, well, we could’ve been having sex on the kitchen floor.” She raised her hands and shook her head as Xander’s mouth dropped open. “That’s all I’m saying.”
It took a couple of seconds for the power of speech to return to him. “How did you even know about that?” he sputtered.
“Xander, there were about forty girls in that house! And an Andrew!” she replied, laughing again. “I guess one of them got hungry!”
He began to turn bright red. “You - you don’t know what it was like! It was Pheromone City in there, what with Willow and Kennedy and Faith and the Principal getting all… canoodley.”
She thought back and her chest tightened, making her frown at last. It wasn’t that funny anymore. She couldn’t laugh about that perfect, terrifying night, not even with Xander.
“Buffy?” She tore her eyes away from the curtains and looked at him again. The seriousness was back in him as well. He sighed as he seemed to see it in her. “I know it’s been a while, but, if you ever want to talk, I’m talking-guy.” He shrugged. “I may not get it, but I understand.”
And there she was, crying again, for the second time in over a year. They shared another hug, but this time she was a fully active participant.
“Just promise me you’ll do the same,” she said with a squeeze.
So, the comics have been pissing me off somewhat. Despite the fact that I've pretty much stopped reading them I have not been able to escape the annoyance they breed within me. And so I wrote this instead.
Behold, the first Buffy-Xander friendship fic I've ever written (with a good dose of B/S and X/A thrown in for seasoning)! It's less than a thousand words, but I needed to get this off my chest. Who knows, maybe next time I'll deal with the nonsense that is Buffy and Dawn. (Does anyone know if Joss is an only child? Because they have to be the weirdest siblings ever...)
This is quite probably a U, but can I call it a PG for the street-cred? The title's a reference to the hideous concept (well, in this context anyway) of UST. No offence meant to the Bander people, of course, but your ship is not my ship - I feel it sailed long ago.
Warnings: Death/grief (in the most mild and non-depressive sense)
Resolution.
She’d known the kiss was coming. She hadn’t been sure when it was going to happen, but it had been building between them for months, and now it was here.
The stained wood and gothic furnishings fell further into darkness as his face grew large in front of hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and through her lashes, just before the darkness, she could see his eyelid droop as well.
The scent of male drifted up her nose, sparking off her heartbeat. She wasn’t sure which of them whispered first.
“Ahn…”
“Spike…”
It was, however, at the same moment that they leapt away from each other, the imprint of the other’s lips barely pressed on their mouths, eyes wide open and flustered as hell.
“Oh, Xand, I’m sorry!”
“I don’t know what I was doing.”
“I mean, I just don’t think about you that way.”
“You’re not even my type!”
“I must’ve -” Buffy stopped, welcoming the light flooding back into her vision. “Huh?”
“I guess I -”
“What d’you mean I’m not your type?”
Xander jumped, raising his hands in defence. “Nothing bad, I -”
It did not save him from the Wrath of Buffy. “Are you saying I’m not attractive?” She put her hands on her hips. “Because I’m telling you, buster, I’m cute! And I have superpowers!”
The hands lowered. “Buffy,” Xander said, his eye filling with sincerity. “I love you. But if we dated…” He shook his head. “I’d go insane.”
“Hey!” Her finger rose before she could stop it, as did the colour in her cheeks. “That happened to one guy.”
“I don’t mean literally!” He brushed a hand through his hair. For weeks that move had been making her sit up a little straighter. Now it did nothing, but she was too annoyed to care. “When I’m in a relationship I like to know what’s what: if I’m pissing my girlfriend off, if I bought her the wrong flavour muffins, if we’re, you know, OK.”
In a second, however, her annoyance collapsed into hurt, and she crossed her arms. “I guess that’s more than you could hope for from Buffy, the Emotion Slayer, huh?”
“You know I don’t mean that.” His tone was mildly chastising.
She shrugged, suddenly listless, and dropped her eyes to the stone floor of the conference-room. Slowly she found herself folded into a hug, tears leaking from her eyes onto Xander’s warm and wonderfully platonic shoulder. Why had they let themselves become flirting buddies? With Willow away so much it had left both of them so friendless.
Finally, they moved apart, settling at a more comfortable distance than before. Buffy tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes. “So, you miss Anya, huh?”
“I guess I do,” he replied, with an almost dark little smile. It didn’t reach his eye. She smiled her own ironic smile back, until the moment passed and he continued, “Sorry about the whole…” He waved a hand, which seemed to sum up the situation perfectly.
Buffy shrugged. “There are worse people you could’ve replaced me with.” What surprised her was that it was the truth. “Besides,” she continued, “it’s not as if I was exactly transference-free.”
Xander grinned, and then it grew to a chuckle. Buffy giggled with him, not much liking the hollow sound they made, but letting it out anyway.
“God, we’re pathetic,” she said at last, as the laughter petered out.
“Well, you know, I’m almost flattered.” Buffy raised an eyebrow, the phrase ‘compact, but well-muscled’ haring its way through her consciousness. “I,” he put a hand over his heart, “Xander Lavelle Harris, finally got to see what it’s like to be part of one of Buffy Summers’ crazy, angst-filled relationships.”
“You so did not…” She was still smiling. It wasn’t really too far from happiness. “And, hey!” she continued, realising she’d missed her cue. “They were not ‘angst-filled’.”
“Because those nights on the back porch were all about the joy and merriment.” The irony somehow took the sting away.
“Yeah, well, we could’ve been having sex on the kitchen floor.” She raised her hands and shook her head as Xander’s mouth dropped open. “That’s all I’m saying.”
It took a couple of seconds for the power of speech to return to him. “How did you even know about that?” he sputtered.
“Xander, there were about forty girls in that house! And an Andrew!” she replied, laughing again. “I guess one of them got hungry!”
He began to turn bright red. “You - you don’t know what it was like! It was Pheromone City in there, what with Willow and Kennedy and Faith and the Principal getting all… canoodley.”
She thought back and her chest tightened, making her frown at last. It wasn’t that funny anymore. She couldn’t laugh about that perfect, terrifying night, not even with Xander.
“Buffy?” She tore her eyes away from the curtains and looked at him again. The seriousness was back in him as well. He sighed as he seemed to see it in her. “I know it’s been a while, but, if you ever want to talk, I’m talking-guy.” He shrugged. “I may not get it, but I understand.”
And there she was, crying again, for the second time in over a year. They shared another hug, but this time she was a fully active participant.
“Just promise me you’ll do the same,” she said with a squeeze.